A Few More Delusions
by Many A Mistake
Summary: Welcome to the au/spinoff/mistake that no one asked for but exists because Malice played Bioshock again after 7 flipping years! Fair warning, this story includes cannon typical violence, horror, non-con elements and of course gross abuse of the Atlas voice. Side stories, AU's and smut that never got put into Delusion Tax, including the Outlast cast in Rapture.
1. Wants Me Dead (Delusion Tax snippet)

Wants Me Dead: Rough Timeline relation – Living at Waylon's home. Pre chapter 13

Park's house was painfully quaint. After a near month of living in its walls Jeremy ought to have acclimatized but each and every day he was taken aback by just how quaint it really was.

It wasn't the house itself exactly that gave off that agonizingly charming feeling of homeliness. No, it was the fact it was so lived in that had Jeremy baffled. It was the little things that he hadn't noticed in the first few days that now stuck out at him. At first it had been the clamor, the toys left around by the boys. The photos that took up every available space and wall. Right down to the distinct smell of each room. Jeremy hadn't noticed that first night he snuck in, how could he be expected to notice that Waylon and Lisa's room smelt of clean sheets and light perfumes when compared to somewhere like the boy's room – something distinctly electrical and grassy from the dirt the boys brought in from the garden.

Now that he had noticed, Jeremy couldn't seem to stop focusing on it. Each room had a particular feel. It belonged to the person who lived in it most and if it was shared by the house then it felt like its purpose. The living room was bright, lively, inviting. The kitchen – when kept tidy by him no less – _felt_ clean.

Jeremy thought this was all very unusual. He'd lived in his family home for all his childhood and never noticed any difference between any given room in the house. They all felt the same, even his own room had that same feel to it. Nothing stuck out, it was all uniform. So to suddenly be in a house where the mood and tone could flip on its head just by passing through one doorway, well it was all rather overwhelming.

That was why he currently sat in his borrowed room. Taking a moment to just appreciate the quiet of his room. There was nothing that stuck out in particular in this room. It was unused before he arrived according to Waylon, so that left it without the marks of another person. Jeremy felt like he could breath again when he sat on this borrowed bed. He imagined that if he'd sat on any other bed in the house the sheer force of the sense of 'trespassing' would have chased him off in an instant.

Today had been a long one and Jeremy needed this break. The boys had been relentless in their nagging. Wanting to rush off to some playground down the road. Jeremy knew he couldn't do that, even if Lisa wasn't liable to shank him for it, the idea that Murkoff was around every corner hadn't worn off yet. He'd had to barter with them, chocolates and a movie just a little too mature for them had done the trick.

Actually now he thought about it, Lisa might still shank him for that.

With a tired sigh Jeremy fell back flat onto his borrowed bed that was rapidly becoming _his_ inside his own head. God his body hurt. It was not like the terrible agony he'd been in months earlier, it was more of a deep set aching. The sign of a day spent hoisting kids up where he'd never had to lift anything heavier than a paper weight before. A day spent racing after Jackie to stop him from doing something colossally stupid like trying to juggle knives. Which Jeremy himself might have inadvertently put into the kid's head. He didn't think he'd actually try it.

He'd underestimated the boy's determination and ego. Never again.

The ache in his bones wasn't actually awful. He wished it didn't exist but thinking about what caused it brought Jeremy some satisfaction. Especially when he compared it to other pains he'd felt. Far worse pains.

Although he doubted that he'd be able to get any sleep. Certainly not enough to help chase off lingering soreness. Tiredly Jeremy stared at the ceiling, glowering as the irritation thought crossed his mind. There was no way he would get a good night's rest. Not when he knew all that waited beyond his eyelids was nightmares.

They'd been getting worse as of late. He'd actually screamed when he woke up, loud enough that he'd scared Waylon awake. The man thought he was so sly, checking in on him once he thought Jeremy was asleep again. Of course he wasn't bloody asleep, not after screaming bloody murder thinking his neck had just been slit open.

It irritated Jeremy that Waylon had checked on him at all. Like he cared about a man like Blaire.

That was…impossible.

Trying to will away uncomfortable thoughts, Jeremy closed his eyes. If he couldn't sleep he could at least rest them, try to fight off the sting of dry eyes. He must have only been laying there for a few minutes, that was all it felt like but when he opened his eyes next all the light was gone from the room. The sudden change in time startled Jeremy, he'd only closed his eyes for a moment but it looked like he'd lost the last of the daylight.

Confused and groggy Jeremy tried to move, to sit up and see what the time was. It was only when he felt the weight of his own body and the lingering aches and pains that it occurred to him that he hadn't dreamt. If hours really had passed…he must have slept and he didn't recall any nightmares. This was as exhilarating as it was confusing. Jeremy wasn't sure he was ready to just accept this.

Most good things came with a hefty price tag.

Blearily Jeremy glanced towards the window. As expected it was dark outside, he could even see the light of the moon somewhere up above. That was fine, but what took a moment to settle into his head and a few more seconds to make sense was the fact the window was actually _open_.

Confused Jeremy tried to remember opening it or if he'd seen that it was open earlier. No, he definitely remembered it being shut. He didn't think it was like Waylon or Lisa to come open it when he was asleep. Certainly not on a night like this, the air was chilly and now that he'd noticed the open window, he felt the draft that came with it. The temperature of the room was uncomfortably low and Jeremy mumbled a low curse under his breath as he hoisted himself up off the bed.

It was going to take ages to get the room warm again, but he could start by closing the window.

"Who the actual fuck…" Jeremy snarled letting the thought die away as he pulled the window shut roughly. He flinched as it slammed against the wooden frame and for a second wondered if he might accidentally wake up the Parks. Unlikely, only one of his screams had ever stirred Waylon and there'd been plenty more than one those past few weeks.

With the window shut Jeremy thought he should give sleep another go. But his legs didn't turn to pull him back to the bed, instead he stayed put staring at his hands on the window for a moment longer.

It didn't make sense. He was puzzled by this window being open. Normally this wouldn't be enough to ward him off going back to bed, but tonight the thought wouldn't leave his head. He just kept staring at his hands, wondering what it was that he was missing.

Slowly but surely it settled in. The realization that the prickling at the back of his mind wasn't just confusion, but fear. Something had spooked him and Jeremy barely even noticed it.

Then Jeremy knew.

He pinpointed what was wrong. His room had changed. His room didn't feel like it had when he want to sleep. There was something new here. Something familiar.

It happened quickly, but didn't things always when Jeremy wasn't prepared? The sudden strike from behind forced Jeremy up against the wall, chest flat against the window he'd just closed as a set of cold hands pulled his arm up against his back, using it to press him more harshly against the solid surface of the glass.

Jeremy winced, a cry of alarm being knocked out of him as he was winded. The icy temperature of the window a near match for the hands that kept his wrist jammed up against his spine – too high to not be painful but not yet high enough to pop anything out of place. _Yet_.

He'd been found.

The thought only just clicked into place as Jeremy felt something smooth slide along his neck. Instinctively he tensed, knowing exactly what it was without having to look down. He knew that if he budged so much as an inch, that knife might just draw blood.

"Look at that." The familiar voice hummed next to his ear. "You're so well trained, Mr. Blaire. Now, if I'd done that a few months ago you would have struggled. Look at you now. Perfectly well behaved."

" _How_?" Jeremy ground out past clenched teeth, too afraid to even take a deep breath least that knife pull up against his throat a little tighter.

"How?" Sinclair purred, tone nothing but viciously smug as he cornered Blaire. "How did I find you? Oh, Mr. Blaire. Didn't I tell you time and time again?" The knife pressed in a little deeper and Jeremy stopped breathing. "I'm not ever letting you go."

Jeremy felt cold dread pooling into his stomach. He could imagine it now, that little shack room and musty old mattress. The ropes, the hammer – all of it coming back. He was going to die this time. This time Sinclair was going to cut off his legs, make sure he cold never run this distance again. He knew it, he knew it—

"Now, you and I are going to have a little chat about your behaviour and then we're going home." Sinclair told him in a voice that was almost reasonable. Were it not for the knife and the hiss behind the man's words – he might have even sounded sane. "I really don't know what got into your head, thinking you could just…"

Sinclair stopped.

The sudden halt to his usually endless stream of speaking alarmed Jeremy. What now? Was he going to start early, break something even while under Waylon's roof? Jeremy wanted to squirm, wanted to scream – anything to get some attention but not a single sound left his mouth. He couldn't seem to even twitch, body locked up in some desperate attempt to avoid the pain that was definitely be coming its way.

Shifting behind Jeremy as if to better situate himself, Sinclair let out a soft sound of puzzlement. Jeremy made a choked sound of pain as Sinclair's movements forced his arm high up along his back. If Sinclair noticed or thought anything of the pained sound he did nothing to alleviate Jeremy's discomfort, instead the knife he'd pressed against Jeremy's neck began to idly drag up and down his throat, as if the man was just toiling time away while thinking. 

Then finally he spoke again; it was not what Jeremy expected.

"You know, Mr. Blaire, I always imagined you'd sleep in your suit." He mused and Jeremy's mind went completely silent. Not sure what to make of that comment and now acutely aware of just how little he actually was wearing. Lucky him it wasn't the state of complete undress he'd slept in back when he was on top of the world. "Silly isn't it? The thoughts of a terrified man." Sinclair continued, chuckling lowly as though he truly did find it to be very funny.

Jeremy hissed sharply as the man's knife left his throat and drifted lazily across his chest. In that moment he dearly wished he had worn all the clothes Sinclair thought he would have to bed.

Sinclair was still thinking about something. Jeremy couldn't move at all, but he knew if he'd looked back he'd see the blonde's face pinched into that look of deep contemplation. Then the knife paused and Jeremy's breath hitched. Of all the places to linger, he had to…

"This would be too cruel wouldn't it?" Sinclair pondered aloud, voice twisted with an unspoken glee as the thought bounced around his head. The knife lingering pointedly above Jeremy's crotch. "Oh, you might never forgive me if I broke this part of you." Then just to prove his point Sinclair laid the flat side of the blade against Jeremy's groin and the man let out a shameless yelp of panic.

Part of him wildly rallied against this, frantically thought over and over again that Sinclair wouldn't. Surely even he had some boundaries, some sense of mercy to not go that far. He'd scarred Jeremy before, left marks on him – but this? This was…

"Don't." Jeremy bit out, just able to feel his body shivering. He was sure he'd broken out in a cold sweat but he couldn't seem to feel anything but that the pressure of the knife. Separated from his skin only by the thin material of his pants. "Sinclair, _don't_."

"Hmm." The disapproval in the hum sent Jeremy's heart racing. "That doesn't sound much like a please to me."

It took longer than it should have. Just forcing the words out felt like driving nails through fingers. But then again, he imagined the actual pain of what might happen if he didn't would be far worse. "Sinclair…please stop." He eventually managed to hiss out and Jeremy could actually feel the man's satisfaction.

He felt it in the way the knife moved away from his body and the rough grasp on his wrist softened. For a moment he was at a loss, not sure if he was willing to believe that Sinclair was backing off fully just because he'd asked _nicely_. Then the knife returned, back up to his throat along with a new order.

"You're not going to move are you?" Sinclair asked brightly, and Jeremy scowled at him from the corner of his eye. He knew damn well he wasn't going anywhere with Sinclair so fucking close and in possession of a knife. His stony silence must have been answer enough because Sinclair laughed and released his wrist entirely. "There's a good boy."

He didn't even have time to register relief before horror came barreling back in. Jeremy jumped, a cry of alarm catching in his throat as Sinclair's icy fingers dipped bellow the elastic of his pants, freezing the skin they touched. His mind reeled, falling back against too many confused thoughts to muster up even one coherent enough to explain what was happening.

A small reminder to keep his body in line came as the knife pressed against his neck. Digging deep enough to pull a small line of blood from under his skin, Jeremy shuddered as it slipped down his throat. Hot at first but turning cold in a matter of seconds. All the while the only other thing he could focus on was Sinclair's cold fingers pushing his only coverage down and out of the way.

"Wha…What are you doing?" He knew. Of course he bloody, fucking knew, but his mind was refusing to process this information. Because it was Sinclair, because this had just never occurred to him.

It _hadn't_. He insisted in his own head. A thought like this had never crossed his mind, not once, not even for a second. Jeremy absolutely refused to acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, in the briefest moments his mind might have. What was worse was the fact that those cold hands felt exactly how he thought they would. Firm enough to hold him together, and perfectly capable of pulling him apart.

Sinclair didn't answer him, instead he seemed to focus on this new line of thought, his hand curious more than anything else as it brushed over his skin. Occasionally Jeremy heard the man mumbling something to himself, sometimes a murmur of appreciation. He'd patched up nearly every part of Jeremy, but there were still places he hadn't seen yet. Now his hand was roaming freely along the inside of his thighs and Jeremy didn't think he'd ever felt so helpless than he did in that moment.

"Hush." Sinclair demanded and Jeremy only became aware of his own quiet noises of discomfort after being told to be silent. "Don't whine now." Sinclair continued and Jeremy could feel the man smiling against his bare shoulder. He let out a soft sound of satisfaction that had Jeremy giving a full body shudder. "You're so warm, for a man that crawled his way right out of hell I expected you to be colder."

"T-That's rich." Jeremy gasped out, unable to help himself. "Coming from the walking iceman."

"Cute." Jeremy hissed as Sinclair's teeth sank into his shoulder. He would have expected the bite to be more vicious; to draw blood but it was little more than a warning nip. If he'd been cruel with his bite it might have been less agonizing. But now suddenly it was all gentle.

The knife at his neck hovered a small distance away, pulling no more blood. The teeth that had seconds earlier forced down against his shoulder were replaced with little more than a smile being pressed against his skin. Even the invading hand wasn't rough in his handling.

If anything it was…

"Why don't you just do it?" Jeremy snarled, regretting the words the moment he said them. He wished he could pull them back, somehow take them away before Sinclair noticed his frustration. But it was too late now and Jeremy felt the man's mouth twitch up into a smirk against his shoulder.

"Why, Jeremy." Sinclair chuckled. "Anyone would think you're asking for more."

"As if, you sick fucking freak." Gritting his teeth Jeremy forced his eyes away from Sinclair. Difficult when he could see the man's smirk through the reflection of the window.

Cursing quietly Jeremy tried not to focus on how his body twitched and burned wherever Sinclair's fingers would rest. Tried not to think about how close they were to actually touching him properly. So close but…damn it was he _teasing_?

"No, no. None of that" Sinclair chided quietly, feeling Jeremy's frustration as he muscles bound up tight. Feeling Jeremy's urge to start fighting again before the man even had the chance to give it a shot.

When his hand finally stopped tormenting Jeremy he damn near went weak in the knees. Sinclair finally enclosed his scarred hand around Jeremy's cock, only to laugh in disbelief when he found the man already half hard under his fingers. "Oh you little _liar_." Sinclair breathed gleefully. His fingers were less gentle now, rubbing harder as the body under him quivered and a groan that Jeremy tried to strangle managed to slip out.

"More of that. More of those sounds." Sinclair demanded tone near feverish, and Jeremy barely even registered the sound of the knife being dropped, clattering to the floor. It only dawned on him that Sinclair had abandoned his weapon when the man's fingers urged his head up, leaving his throat exposed and making it difficult to keep all those little sounds smothered. "You're so mouthy all the time, don't be silent now." Sinclair groused, teeth gliding across his exposed throat as a warning. Jeremy was suddenly stubbornly silent and that just wasn't going to do. "Have you forgotten your position? If I tell you to be quiet you don't say a word. I tell you to make sound then I had better hear some wonderful noises coming out of those lips. If I tell you to be a good boy and cum—"

He came out of his thoughts as he heard Jeremy's breath hitch, felt his body moving, seeming to try and buck into the inviting palm, and the blonde stared in disbelief and just a bit of confusion. Then slowly his expression broke down into a wicked sneer at understanding washed over him. "Oh, it's like that is it?" He whispered, voice a mix of mocking and tenderness, it all went straight down to Jeremy's cock and Sinclair chuckled, feeling the man shaking under his hold. "You like that?"

"Please." Jeremy gasped, barely recognizing his own breathless voice. But god did he need this, he didn't care how wrecked his voice sounded, so long as he got what he wanted. "Please just say… _ah!"_ His hips stuttered forward, not ready for how Sinclair's fingers tightened around him. God he wished it would hurt; if it hurt maybe he could pull basic common sense back into his head. If it stayed this gentle Jeremy was liable to forget exactly which version of Sinclair he was with.

"What is it you want to hear, Jeremy?" Sinclair…or was it Sebastian now – cooed wickedly against the back of his neck. "Do you want to hear filth coming out of my mouth? Do you want me to tell you what I want to do to you? Would it undo you if I just said I wanted to fuck you?" And god, if hearing that simple word falling out of Sebastian's usually sweet tongue wasn't the most wonderful thing he'd ever heard.

Sebastian felt Jeremy's body shivering against him, the violent shudder a perfect tell for what he wanted. He barely even needed the words and Jeremy couldn't tell if he hated Sebastian for the horrible little things he whispered to him, or if he loved him for it.

"Could have done this to you so many times already. I could have had you while you were tied down on that filthy bed. Oh, you would have complained, but that's just like you isn't it? Can't let anyone know you _want_ something, so I have to take it from you." Jeremy was only just listening, finding it difficult to hear anything beyond the roaring in his head from lack of oxygen and the fingers that continued to pull up and down his shaft, keeping him trapped with barely any effort at all. "Enjoying that thought, Jeremy? Imagine that, the great Jeremy Blaire practically begging to be forced down – how depraved can you be, love?"

The answer was in his body. The way he twisted and writhed against Sinclair's hands, but didn't once try to pull them away. Even as his fingers loosely curled around the man's wrist, he didn't even try to pull Sebastian's hands off of his body. If it stopped now Jeremy was sure he might actually lose what was left of his mind.

"Tell me." Sinclair demanded in a hushed voice. It settled deep into Jeremy's stomach, a low burn he couldn't ignore, tightening the coil that was gradually knotting up inside of him. It sounded like Sebastian's amused voice, lacking the expected scorn. "Tell me what you want, Jeremy. I won't even make you beg, love. Just tell me."

Despite himself, the words came out. Choked and barely more than a whisper – but they got out all the same. "I want…" He gulped, body shaking as what was left of his mind wondered if he was really going to say it. He did. "…I want you to fuck me."

The answer was not the one he wanted. "Maybe next time." Sinclair hummed cheerfully, his attentions focused on pulling Jeremy apart, forcing him over the cliff he was rapidly approaching. He was being spoiled and he loved it. Jeremy groaned, wishing the sound was a snarl, but he knew better than to snap at Sinclair when the man's fingers lingered around his throat.

But he was rewarded. Sebastian always did reward him and punish him in equal measure. Jeremy swore he saw stars for a moment, having nearly forgotten what it felt like to come apart under someone's hands. Even when he'd still been in control of his life, this sort of indulgence was a rarity, especially at the hands of someone else. He'd never not been in control, but now he had no choice but to melt into the hands that held him as they brought him to his limit.

With that, he came with a sharp intake of breath and a barely contained whimper. A sound that no doubt Sebastian heard and loved much to Jeremy's mortification. But that could wait, there was no room for any other thoughts in his head except how good it felt to just for a moment see nothing but white. Even as overstimulation began to set in and Jeremy's quiet sounds of contentment turned to near whines and complaints, he wasn't quite all there again.

Finally he was released. And Jeremy cringed as he felt the damp patch of his pants without Sebastian's hand there any longer. As much freedom as the blonde was willing to give him in that moment, his hands back was not among those liberties. Instead they were drawn behind his back again, not rough in their handling this time. Hell if he tried Jeremy was sure he could have easily broken away from the loose, one handed grasp Sebastian held them in.

He didn't try.

Then slowly it all faded. He calmed back down and what was close to some sense of reality came back to him. With it came clarity and a sinking understanding.

"This isn't real." Jeremy whispered, the realization washing over him. It was sobering and in that moment he couldn't tell if it was better this way or not. "I'm…you're _not_ Sebastian. You're not real."

The nightmare grinned at him and Jeremy's blood ran cold again. The fear returning. Of course this wasn't real. When was the last time he had slept without nightmares? This was just…a new one for him. The not actually Sebastian wound his arms around Jeremy's torso, unconcerned by how tense his partner was.

"Of course not." He whispered viciously. His fingers sliding up to violently jerk Jeremy's chip upwards, looking as though he'd like nothing more than to break that little neck. "When I find you I'm going to rip your throat out. You think he'll be this forgiving when he finds you Mr. Blaire? Oh sweet thing, you'll be lucky if he lets you die quickly."

Then something in the nightmare's eyes sparked. Something cold and cruel, something that nearly reflected Jeremy's former self back to him. Something devoid of compassion of any kind. "You didn't think….oh darling, you didn't really believe he'd do _this_? With _you_?"

The nightmare barked a laugh that sounded nothing like Sebastian. "Poor delusional little thing." Pulling Jeremy's head back further, this time with fingers in his hair, the nightmare spoke in a low snarl against Jeremy's ear. "He wants you dead."

He's had enough now.

When the nightmare does end, Jeremy doesn't scream. That must have been a first.

Rather than jerking awake, frantic and expecting the walls of the asylum to be surrounding him. Jeremy comes back to the real world feeling hollowed out, a deep set terror in his bones that wasn't going to leave for days. He would have traded it for the usual brand of feverish panic in a second, anything to somehow wash away the thoughts in his head.

Because his nightmares had always been painful, but they'd never been quite so cruel before. He spent that night awake, wondering which bones Sebastian would start with if he ever did find him. He wondered idly if when Sebastian did come across him, would the memory of that nightmare come back to him?

No. Jeremy would rather Sebastian just end his life. Keep it clean, nothing but blades, blood and broken bones. Nothing tender, nothing that might feel like a gentle touch.

Better he never know.


	2. OutShock1

The world smelt of rust and stale air.

And maybe something else. A metallic sting to the air he wasn't familiar with it felt like that scent should be sharp, should cut through all the other horrible smells to take center stage. But instead it lingered behind everything else. Ever present, slowly building up, creeping in and suffocating once given the chance.

Ears ringing, there was something else just beyond his own little world sounding. Something urgent, desperate but still little more than a vaguely reassuring buzz in his head.

It was human he realised. The thing he was hearing beyond all that static and ringing was a human's voice.

Trying to focus in on it was difficult. The world seemed to become less solid with every passing second, skirting in and out of focus the harder he tried to reign it back in. What happened? What had happened to him?

Focusing was difficult, remembering was harder. It dawned on him that he was doing too much, trying to see straight, listen to the human's voice he was hearing and also drag up memories. He was overloading himself and as a result all his efforts were falling flat.

He could only do one.

Only one…

"—you alive in there, boyo?" The human's voice fleshed out into words and as the ringing between his ears receded those words gradually gained meaning. "Give me something here. Would you kindly just let me know if you're alright? Anything will do. Anything."

He was alive. Somehow. At least that was what he thought must be true, a dead person could not heave themselves up off the floor with the haste that he did. A corpse couldn't make every effort to answer, every effort to just give the voice something.

It was nothing short of a miracle that he didn't fall and instead managed to place a steadying hand against glass. Only now noticing that there was glass at all, out beyond the large panel he could just see something that looked like a camera blinking red back at him.

"Ah. There you are." The voice sounded both pleased and relieved and the definitely not dead man was in turn calmed.

Now that he was upright the world was coming back to him as well. Still hazy and tasting of dead air, but no longer swimming in and out of focus. Still dizzy and sore from things he couldn't recall, the man slumped against the glass and that voice spoke up again, that edge of concern returning.

"Not looking too good though." An accent, the dizzy man realised with dull amusement. The voice had an accent, what was that? Something European surely, British maybe? He wasn't confident enough to guess which part of Britain, he'd never been to Europe had he? It hurt too much to think about anything and instead the man was able to just listen to that lightly accented voice speak to him.

"Better take a breather." The voice advised with a quiet chuckle. "Doubt you'll get much of a chance after this."

After this? The confused man wondered what came next. Actually he would have been satisfied to know what came before.

Given that moment to think, once again he tried to recall what happened. Distantly he remembered water. Plenty of it too.

Not particularly helpful, searching a little more he eventually thought of…a plane? That seemed right, he'd been looking at a present hadn't he?

It had been addressed to him, to Sebastian Sinclair.

The memory of his own name hit him less strongly than Sebastian thought it should have. Rather than a sudden great understanding, it was little less than a thought neatly settling into place. Resuming it's rightful place in his head. But Sebastian thought of his name with some kind of disconnect. It was like reading a fact about another person, he didn't question how true it was but there was no real emotional connection to this fact.

"I know you're taking a moment to stop your head rattling." The voice piped up again, just a hint of impatience this time. Sebastian didn't like that very much. "But we got to get you moving, I aim to keep you alive in this place and I can't do that with you sitting on your thumbs all day."

Sebastian decided that while this voice meant very well it was not the most patient one in the world. But at the same time he was relieved to have them there at all. To explain anything to him.

When Sebastian tried to speak, his whole world momentarily shot out of focus again, blinding white hot pain rushing up the length of his neck and bringing him to his knees. The voice saw through the camera he must have.

"Kid?" It called after him anxiously. "Kid you're not passing out on me, are you?"

No, Sebastian shook his head, fingers frantically squeezed around his throat. Not passing out, in hell maybe but definitely still conscious.

Realisation came with the voice's next words. "So you didn't make it down here completely in one piece, I'm not surprised, I'm amazed you survived the trip at all. Looks like you've damaged your throat, no speaking for now alright? Just…let me do the talking."

Okay, Sebastian thought although it pained him to know he couldn't speak. For what little he knew about himself, there was no doubt in his mind that he loved to speak. He nodded after a second, knowing he'd have to be more physically expressive to get anything across.

"Good boy." Pleased. Definitely pleased this time. "Now you really got ta get out of there, boyo. I'm going to open up the biosphere now, be careful you don't have anything to defend yourself with just yet. But don't you worry; I'll send some friends to help till you do."

Defend himself? Sebastian did not at all like the sound of that. He was no fighter to begin with and what on earth would he even need to defend himself for?

He wanted to ask, but his voice wouldn't come out. It hurt even trying to let out something even remotely like a word. It felt as though his neck should be caked in blood, should have been torn wide open, but when Sebastian put his fingers up to where the injury should be he found nothing but smooth flesh. This all felt exceptionally strange.

"Alright, out you hop." The voice commented as the glass door slid back, allowing Sebastian freedom from the small bubble like machine. "From here on in we're going to be friends." It told him and Sebastian felt a small glow of warmth in his chest, already liking his new friend. "The name's Atlas, and one way or another I'm going to keep you alive."

…  
…

Sebastian learned a lot of things in rapid succession after that.

A splicer would kill him on sight. The mad ravings were a warning, not an invitation to offer assistance. Lost children were not to be approached no matter how badly he wanted to help them and there was nothing more deadly than a big thumping monster with a drill. And that smell? The thing that had finally managed to worm under his skin, cling to every inch of his body?

That was no longer a mystery to him either.

The thought of how many people it would have required, how many people had to spill blood for that stench to soak itself into every part of Rapture – well it was a thought Sebastian tried to avoid more frantically than any splicer.

All this he learnt extremely quickly, a wrench clutched close to his chest as he inched through the world he'd been dropped into. He'd had to use it, more out of shock than any real survival instinct. He'd approached a crying woman, ignoring the advise he'd been given before hand when he heard her quiet sobs.

As unhinged as she sounded, Sebastian's heart had broken to hear her so miserable. So he tried to be brave and hope for the best.

What he got was a unholy screech and the woman's claw like nails nearly burying themselves into his eye. Sebastian hadn't been prepared for the sheer force and speed with which the seemingly fragile woman had flung herself at him. He'd been knocked down and pinned in seconds, only the wrench between himself and the rabid splicer.

Terrified and trapped Sebastian had struggled as best he could. Eventually able to throw the mad woman off him with a heave of his wrench. She hit the ground, convulsed, screamed and leapt up again. Scrambling back Sebastian had frantically tried to just escape the situation.

That was when he learnt that the voice – that Atlas – knew better than him.

"Oh for god's sake-" Atlas's furious voice came across the radio at Sebastian's hip, static blaring with its arrival. "She's going to kill you!" Atlas snapped and Sebastian truly believed that. He didn't see a way out.

But Atlas did.

"Don't just sit there, fight back!" He commanded and Sebastian's blood ran cold.

Because of course. _Of course_ he should fight back. But…he thought of the woman's sobbing, of the person she must have once been. That she could maybe be again?

Was there anywhere on earth that she could get the help she needed? If there was, it wasn't down in this decaying city.

That hesitation was costly. Sebastian just managed to move aside of the woman before she could get her claws in him again. His only blessing was that she had no weapon besides her own body, but she threw it with such ruthlessness and disregard for injury that even it was easily deadly.

He was up now. On his own two feet with the wrench shaking in his hands. Sebastian didn't think he'd ever so much as hit someone before. He wasn't that kind of person, he didn't hurt people and he most certainly couldn't kill someone.

But Atlas knew best.

"Kid, she _is_ going to _kill_ you if you don't get over whatever morality kick you're on. Now buck up, be a man and would you kindly hit that bitch with that wrench!"

It happened so quickly that Sebastian barely even realised he'd done it. A sudden smack, a jolt up his arm as cold metal impacted against pliable flesh.

The woman's face, already twisted into some grotesque mockery of a human face, caved inwards. Her whole body followed the motion of her head as it went flying in the opposite direction of the wrench that had struck her and Sebastian stumbled back, a little off balance.

Once she hit the ground, she didn't get back up and she most certainly wasn't breathing.

He was shaking. Sebastian was trembling hard enough that he almost dropped the weapon he'd just used to kill someone with. His knees gave out first and Sebastian collapsed to the ground, vomiting up what must have been his last meal with tears stinging at his eyes.

It had been so easy. He had not expected killing a person to be as simple as one swing. But her bones had just given away like twigs under the weight of the wrench and he could now see that there was blood trickling out of her eyes. He'd broken her more severely than he thought and that knowledge had Sebastian dry heaving with nothing left to throw up.

He was nearly crying now, an overload of guilt, physical and mental disgust and a whole slew of other emotions he didn't have the coherency to name.

"Easy, easy. Breathe kid." Atlas's voice came through the static and Sebastian's shaking body stilled to listen. "First time's never easy but you're going to have to get over it quickly. Plenty more splicers out there ready to dice you if you let em'. Now up you get, there's something ahead that's going to make this a little less painful. Nothing is actually going to be easy down here, so you're going to have to trust me."

Sebastian didn't move for a few seconds but then gradually forced himself back to his feet. He had no choice. Stay here and he'd have nothing else to do but stare at his own handiwork until something else came along to kill him. Or worse.

What Atlas had found him was something called a plasmid. Sebastian had been unsure about this whole Adam and Eve business at first and he balked when Atlas instructed him to put that stuff into his body. With this dirty, crude needle no less, it was huge and glowing and most certainly not meant to be in the human body.

Atlas chuckled quietly at his revulsion. "Welcome to Rapture." He'd said dryly and waited until Sebastian finally worked his head around the dreadfulness this city.

It was almost more horrible than Sebastian had imagined. He hadn't been able to prepare himself for the searing agony that crawled up his veins once the needle slipped under his skin. He had no words to use, but he was still able to scream.

Stumbling and staggering back with his eyes fixed on the things happening to his body. The lightening that raced up his arms, tracing his infected veins as far as they could reach, breaking and cracking his skin until the blue light was able to pool out freely.

Atlas's voice was trying to reach him. Explaining what was happening to his genetic code along with commands of staying calm, warnings that he was about to fall—all a bit too late and Sebastian when plummeting over the railing.

He was nearly unconscious before he hit the ground, that sudden smack to his skull only finished the job.

…  
…

For the second time the world came back to him in pieces.

Slipping in and out of what he only loosely called consciousness, Sebastian was eventually able to make out shapes. It wasn't until the third time he's briefly come back to the waking world that he was able to make heads or tails of anything, but what he did manage to make sense of did nothing to comfort him.

"Looks like this little fishy just had his cherry popped." An excited splicer's voice rang in his head, a far less appreciated welcome back to the world than his first had been.

There was a squabble, Sebastian wasn't sure exactly what was happening as the splicer and his companion argued. But eventually the two were gone and Sebastian felt a swell of relief. This was immediately crushed by the arrival of heavy thudding footsteps and faint singing.

He knew exactly why the splicers had scurried now.

Icy terror ran down his spine as the boot of a big daddy fell down only a short distance from his head. A low guttural moan that made Sebastian feel more mournful than afraid rolled over him, rumbling through his bones.

Too weak to stand, too weak to even squeak, Sebastian watched as a set of smaller, filth covered bare feet joined the big daddy's in his line of sight.

"Look Mr. Bubbles, it's an angel." That was a girl's voice, but at the same time his mind was rejecting it. Wrong it screamed, this can't be a child's voice, it can't be human. His mind rallied against the thrum of the girl's voice, but her words stuck with him.

An angel she had said, what kind of angel could he possibly be in a place like this? There were no angels down here.

"I can see light coming form his belly. Wait a minute…he's still breathing. It's alright, I know he'll be an angel soon."

And just like that they left. The thing that looked like a child and spoke like a monster and the monstrous guard that stayed with her. They left Sebastian still breathing and he wondered if that was really a mercy or not.

Finally his body was done shaking, finished with whatever meltdown that needle had caused and Sebastian was able to right himself again. Immediately Atlas was there, easing the process with some reassuring words.

"First time is like a kick from a mule." He mused, sounding just a little too entertained. "But there's nothing like a fist of lightening now is there?"

Maybe, Sebastian thought grimly. Flexing his fingers out in front of his face he watched the lightening dance around his palm, sinking into his veins when it pulled back into his body. It looked like it ought to have hurt but beyond the occasional buzz of static of unexpected shock – there was no discomfort. None that was physical anyway.

Yes, nothing like a fist of lightening to make more of a monster of him. A more efficient killer.

 _I don't want that._ Sebastian thought miserably. He closed up his hand and willed away the lightening, feeling a fool for doing so but already beginning to feel relieved to see it go.

"What do you think you're doing?" Atlas demanded, he sounded like he wanted to be angry but was too confused to even muster up the emotion. "Do you want to get yourself offed, boyo? You're going to need that plasmid."

 _I don't want that!_ Sebastian thought again, more desperate now, as if his words could somehow become verbal if he just screamed them loud enough in his head. _I'm no killer, I'm no fighter – I can't be built for this._

Looking pleadingly upwards Sebastian eventually found what he guessed was a camera Atlas could use to see him. What he would have done to be able to speak the words bordered on crazy but never crossed over into criminal.

If he had the ability, he thought he could convey all his grievances with just a few select words. They're still only humans.

Sighing Atlas's voice came across the radio again, definitely impatient but still looking for some way to deal with this. "I get it. This must be difficult for you. But try to be reasonable. You'll die down here if you don't do this."

There was a pause and then more quietly his only friend spoke again. "It's not just about you down here either, kid. I…look I have a family I got to get to. They're stuck down here just like you. I need to get them out of here. But the splicers have cut me off from them and they're stranded in Neptune's Bounty."

Atlas's voice was wretched, strained and desperate.

"I know you must feel like the unluckiest man in the world right now, but I need you to help me to save them. I know it's a lot to ask…but would you kindly help me?"

How could he refuse?

Sebastian's heart leapt, he hadn't even considered what Atlas stood to lose. He was new to this place, stumbling around in the dark, learning new horrors as he went. But Atlas? This was Atlas's everyday, and somewhere out there were people he cared about.

A family he had to get back to.

What was more important than family? Sebastian couldn't say, didn't know if there was anything more precious than a family. If it was his family, wouldn't he do just the same? His head remained foggy but the mere idea of a family brought a new surge of energy coursing through his veins that had nothing to do with a plasmid.

 _Anything_ , he wanted to say, to swear to Atlas. _I'll do anything to help you._

Without words to answer with, Sebastian did the only thing he could to show his willingness – his hand exploded back into blue light. The crackle of lightening brought back the sting but Sebastian barely felt it this time, focused solely on his new promise to his friend.

He would help Atlas, no matter what.

 _Because it must be done I cannot avoid it, and because I cannot avoid it, I must endure it._

This time he heard the smile in Atlas's voice. "That's it boyo, lets get going. You have work to do."

…  
…

It got worse. It got so much worse.

The effects of a city gone wild on a drug they didn't know how to handle were splattered against every wall, evidence of a world gone to hell left on every corner.

What was worse than all this, was the evidence of Sebastian's sins left on his hands. Blood that was equal amounts his own as splicers splashed up across pale skin. In the silence, those brief moments where the screaming and mad ravings of splicers stopped for even an instant, he would stare at his arms. In a way these brief quiet spells were worse, because they only came after more blood had been spilled.

Tiredly looking at his hands, Sebastian for the first time wondered when he'd gotten that tattoo. Three simple chain links. Strange, he thought in that same distant way of his, he couldn't think of a reason to want a tattoo like this. Had he gotten it when he was young? Was it some mistake he couldn't erase, like all the bodies piling up in his wake.

Or maybe it meant something and he just couldn't remember. Idly he thumbed over the tattoo only to recoil in disgust when a red smear was left against his skin. He hadn't realised how fresh this blood was.

A mercy killing Atlas had called it at one point. They weren't human anymore, their lives were better off being ended quickly. He had said this purely to comfort Sebastian, but it hadn't helped at all.

Then, just when he thought the horrible things couldn't possibly continue to pile up any higher – one more terrible addition was added.

"It's Murkoff, god damn Murkoff. Thought we had more time than this." Atlas snarled, frantic now and Sebastian began to panic as well. What was he talking about? "Get to medical, now. What are you doing standing there, _move_!"

Atlas said go and so he did. Sebastian ran, half blind and only just paying attention to where the right path was. He fond himself in a dark room, sure that he'd been going the right way only to suddenly be given no other paths out. No escape with a static television screen lighting up in front of his eyes.

"Ah Christ! You're trapped, I'm going to try and override the exit from here."

Sebastian was barely listening this time, eyes glued to the television. When it lit up he was met with what seemed to be a still image of a man. Someone that he did not recognize at all. Murkoff, that was what Atlas had said wasn't it? Was that this man?

"So." The television droned, sending a shiver up his spine. "Who sent you down here, child?" There was something under those words, just beneath the surface of that conversational tone that screamed danger. "That biosphere you arrived in should have been destroyed before you made it to the city, now how did you…?" The voice continued quietly, only just seeming to be addressing Sebastian at all. "Regardless, you'll not be a problem for long. Nothing leaves the city, _no one must know_."

The screaming began anew. A horde of the things Sebastian had been only just able to fend off earlier rushing for the room. Banging their hideous, ragged bodies against the glass, shrieking to be let in. Some weren't even coherent enough to scream that much, some just yelled profanity, others so far gone they cried about mess or secrets they wanted desperately to share.

Then, like a lifeline, Atlas returned.

"There, got it. Get out of there now!" Sebastian didn't need to be told this time, he just went. Running as far as he could from that place until Atlas spoke again. He sounded calm and so Sebastian in turn calmed. "That delightful man you just had the pleasure of meeting would be Rudolf Wernicke, he's about as close to king as you get around here. Murkoff only exists because he still breathes."

Sebastian knew he didn't have the foggiest about this world. About anything really. So when Atlas told him to continue to get a key from a man who might not be truly human anymore, Sebastian did so with little hesitation.

He knew nothing, and Atlas knew everything. For now at least he just had to place all his trust into his only shred of light in this place and try to still hold onto what little he did know.

Now…where was Dr. Andrew's office?

…  
…

Sebastian was shaking by the end of it. He could not figure out if he was trembling with fear, disgust or rage. The doctor had stopped moving at least three minutes ago, but Sebastian had struck him with the wrench five times since then.

He just couldn't keep his hands to himself, could he? Couldn't stop himself from violating bodies, from violating _him_. Sebastian's wrench swung up a sixth time and came crashing back down on the still body, bending it out of shape even as Sebastian's fingers shook horribly. He could still feel it, still feel the doctor's gloved fingers against his cheek, his damn _tongue_ -

"You alright?" Atlas's voice cut through the haze in Sebastian's head, but he still swung back for a seventh time. He barely registered the sound of Atlas's quiet chuckle; he most certainly didn't notice the tone was just a little off. "I think that's more than enough, kid." Atlas told him gently, voice suddenly thick with concern. "You can stop now. He's not getting up. About time somebody took care of that sick bastard."

Sebastian stopped.

Straightened out his spine and tried to keep breathing even as the urge to vomit rose up again. As it did almost every time he ended a life. Even one as twisted and immoral as this. He looked around at the bodies strung up around the doctor's surgery. Mutilated, violated, ruined by this monster's needs.

"I know you want to help them, but they're dead, kid." Atlas told him and Sebastian felt himself leaving the surgery before his guide had even finished instructing him to. No point staying here, lingering among the dead.

He stayed in that distant, shell-shocked stated for quite some time. Even the sound of another tunnel collapsing and the moans of a dying sea monster didn't jar him from this daze. It wasn't until he heard a scream split through the air that Sebastian was really back in his own head.

That sounded like a child's scream, a little girl's.

Now he ran. Pushing his body harder than when he'd fled from splicers, harder than he had since arriving in Rapture. Turning a corner he saw the smoking remains of a big daddy and out of the corner of his eye, a young girl running, still crying.

"It's a little one." Atlas's voice was equally shocked and enthused by this. "Here's your chance to get some ADAM." He continued eagerly. Sebastian was already following after the girl, but then they weren't alone – a male splicer advanced on the child.

For a moment Sebastian saw Dr. Andrew again. In the way the beast stalked forward, uttering disgusting words to the girl, sickly sweet nothings that did nothing to hide his true intentions. It was only at the end that he openly said it, spoke of the ADAM he was after and Sebastian's insides turned cold.

He rushed the girl, pipe raised and at the same moment Sebastian lunged. Only for a gun firing to startle him into stillness. The splicer's shoulder exploded in a burst of blood, so violent that some landed across Sebastian's face where he stood frozen. The next bullet came barely a second later, taking off the splicer's head and finishing the job before Sebastian could even get to it.

"Stay away from her." A female's voice rang out, sharp and unyielding. "Or the next one goes in your head."

He believed her and took an anxious step away. Atlas, who was not here to heed the threat of a bullet, spoke up.

"Easy now, doctor. He's just looking for a wee bit of ADAM. Just enough to get by." Atlas sounded so soothing, so reassuring and reasonable. He always sounded that was and Sebastian was surprised when the doctor did not relent.

It occurred to him that he'd never actually refused Atlas anything. He wondered if the woman was right to do so.

The gun did not waver. "I will not have him hurt my little ones." She snarled and Sebastian very nearly took another step back, this time out of horror not fear.

He wouldn't. He couldn't. How could she think that…

But there was blood on his hands.

Atlas and the doctor began to argue. Sebastian only just listened to their words. Atlas speaking with barely veiled disgust. Not a real child he said. A monster this woman, this Lisa Park had whipped up. The monster's life for more power, more power to save Atlas's family.

Anything Sebastian had vowed, and took a step forward.

The child—the monster stared up at him with large glowing eyes. Wrong his mind said again, not a human, not a child, it said. But she looked so scared, staring at him like he was the monster that crept out from under people's beds at night. Looked at him like he was the one that was wrong.

I must endure. Another step.

"Another way." Doctor Park said and suddenly Sebastian was looking at her again. "Use this," She continued. "free them from their torment…"

There was more. Promises of rewards or something along those lines as the doctor tossed him a glowing jar. But Sebastian was no longer interested in what she had to promise him. There was nothing else he wanted more in that moment than what she vowed he could give.

Freedom.

Turning back towards the child, Sebastian saw her cowering away from him, terrified of the monster he could be. He approached slowly, reaching out for her only for the girl to flinch back and curl in on herself, helpless but still trying to protect herself from the creature come to kill her.

Pausing Sebastian's hand pulled back to his side and he gradually lowered to his knees in front of her. Still scared the girl stared at him, not sure what to make of his movements. Did kindness exist in this place? Did she even know what it was?

Slowly this time he extended his hand to her and smiled. I have no words to give you, nothing to reassure you that I mean no harm. He wanted to tell her, hoped his warm smile would express. But I can give you this; maybe it'll be enough.

You're just a person too. And even if it's just this once, for this short moment – I can rescue you.

She was resistant at first. But Sebastian kept his hold gentle, hand against the side of her head as the light traveled across their flesh. He knew the moment she was free because her eyes stopped glowing and she was suddenly in the same world as himself. Terror, confusion and then finally gratitude all played across her face and Sebastian stayed at her height for a moment longer, giving her time to come back to the real world.

Then she smiled and Sebastian's whole world lit up like it never had before. No memories and somehow he just knew – this was the moment he'd wished for all his life. Just to see this girl smile.

"Thank you." Two words was all he needed, in fact none at all would have been enough. Sebastian nodded and wished he could have given her more than that.

He stayed with her, Dr. Park's relieved voice ringing in the background. Sebastian wasn't satisfied that she was safe until the girl was inside that pipe. She struggled at first and even though he knew that the little sisters climbed in and out of those things all the time, Sebastian still helped her, offering his hands to give her a platform to push off of.

Once she was inside and safe Sebastian could finally turn away and acknowledge the woman speaking to him.

"Not half as terrible as expected." That sounded like praise, although it came across so dry that Sebastian wondered if he should be insulted instead. Leaning against the railing above, Lisa Park smiled down at him.

"You'll get a reward. Just be patient. Being good isn't always the easiest thing in the world, down here it's even worse…so keep it up." Her smile seemed somewhat grim now. "For as long as you are able."

Then she was gone and Sebastian was still positively glowing. The first good thing he'd been able to do since arriving here. He hadn't realised how badly he needed that small act of kindness until he had it.

Atlas sounded less than impressed.

"You're being played for a sap, kid." He told Sebastian sharply, displeased with his actions and Sebastian wilted a bit under his disapproval. "Those things might look like wee girls, don't make it so."

Sebastian worried about his friend.

He must have been worn to his breaking point to think like that. Worry for his family blinding him to the few good things in the world. Sebastian knew he had to get to Atlas's family quickly, to help remind him of those good things.

His friend needed him to help and he might also need Sebastian to be as kind as he could be. For the both of them.

Kindness however, was a costly endeavor before the choice even cropped up. Just gaining the opportunity to be kindhearted was deadly.

"Careful now." Atlas's voice was hushed and Sebastian instinctively tensed. "You're as ready as you'll ever be. But to get to those little sisters you're going to need to get through her guard dog first."

A big daddy, Sebastian realised with a shiver of terror. He couldn't possibly fight one of those monsters, splicers were one thing but a big daddy was a whole other ballgame and he didn't even know the rules yet.

But…Atlas needed him. Those little girls needed him.

Sebastian took a deep breath, tightening his hands around the wrench that was most certainly not going to be enough for this job and stepped forward.

The first shock that came surging up from under his skin hit the big daddy and it let out an enraged bellow. For those few seconds it was still Sebastian felt hope, he fumbled for his gun and took aim. But then he heard the little girl shriek and cry out for her guardian and he hesitated, eyes sliding over to the girl.

Atlas's voice sounded out in warning, seeing his mistake before Sebastian was even through making it. But it came too late. Sebastian saw a massive force flying at him faster than he could realise what was happening, then there was metal jamming up between his ribs.

Confusion came first, between that split second the drill entered his chest and began to spin. The drill whirled into life, ripping flesh apart with every turn of its massive scale. The drill pushed forward, taking skin, muscle and bone with it, tearing a hole right through Sebastian's chest.

He couldn't even scream, all that came out was a horrid gurgling sound and more blood. It didn't go fast enough, he felt the drill pushing through his chest, tearing apart every inch of him it touched. It jerked his body around like a ragdoll and then finally it all ended. The drill dropped him and the world began to turn dark.

Dead. Sebastian acknowledged distantly. He was dead or at the very least would be in a matter of seconds. The gore of his chest was telling enough. His brain was shutting down and with the last moments of clarity he felt nothing but guilt.

Sorry, he wanted to say, wishing his vocal cords would work for just that one word. Sorry I couldn't rescue you.

And everything faded away.

…  
…

But Sebastian didn't die.

He _couldn't_ die.

A vita chamber, Atlas explained the first time he came back, sputtering and screaming for air. Sebastian was wild the first time he was thrown back into the world. Fingers desperately grappling with the cloth of his shirt, looking for the hole that should have been torn through his chest.

Except there was no hole. Nary even a scratch. He was perfect and unharmed physically.

Mentally was a whole other question.

Sebastian cried the first time he was returned to the world of the living. Sobbed heavily into his hands, near hyperventilating as his mind struggled to process what was happening to him.

The second time he died, impaled on a metal bar jutting out from the wall as the same big daddy threw him back, Sebastian returned in much the same way. The sobbing didn't come with him this time, just a few dry heaves before he was moving again.

By the third time Sebastian only needed a few seconds to himself to try and breath. To run his fingers over his temples where the bullet had been lodged only minutes earlier. A splicer this time, one that snuck up on him while he was plotting out how to approach that big daddy.

Three became four, four became five. By the sixth he stood over the smoking body of the big daddy. Feeling absolutely no joy after having finally destroyed the thing. He felt a spike of anger with himself for an unknown reason, followed by pity for the fallen guardian.

Don't worry, he would have told it, I'll take care of her, I promise.

Rescuing this child nearly washed away the memory of the deaths he'd felt. Nearly erased the horrible memories and thoughts this place gave him.

But then there was a seventh and Sebastian returned to the vita chamber, gasping for air and still thinking he'd been stabbed to death. All thoughts of that girl's smile and freedom slipped from his head.

Before long there weren't any thoughts at all in his head. But his body continued to move on without him.

Atlas noticed quickly.

"Hey." He spoke flatly over the radio as Sebastian once again stepped into the middle of a cluster of splicers. Putting a bullet between the eyes of the one responsible for his seventh death.

It did not come back.

"Kid." Atlas tried again when it seemed Sebastian wasn't listening. He was far too busy lighting the remaining three splicers up, shooting an exposed gas container just to see them go up in flames. "Would you kindly stop freaking out and listen to me for a bleeding second!" Atlas barked and Sebastian stuttered to a stop, finger still twitching on the pistol's trigger.

Frustrated but now with Sebastian's attention Atlas continued.

"Now you all there?" He asked and Sebastian took a shuddering breath before managing a nod. "Good, I'd hate to have to come down there just to hit you. I thought you were just scared when you were sobbing out there…but you really want to die, don't you?"

Sebastian's breath hitched and for once he was relieved his voice couldn't work. He didn't know what he could have said to Atlas in that moment that wouldn't condemn him.

 _He couldn't_ _ **die**_.

Sebastian grieved for his loss of death. He couldn't. No matter what he did. No matter what happened to him in this dreadful place. He'd just come straight back and Sebastian was _terrified_.

There were things that had to be done and if he could not escape it even in death – he'd endure.

The splicers had stopped moving and Sebastian stared down at their still bodied with some amount of envy. It was over for them, there'd be no grief, no regret or guilt. They would not look at their hands and see a killer's work. But there was more work to do and Sebastian knew he couldn't afford to stop now.

He would have no escape with death – there'd be no coward's way out. Not for him.

To Atlas Sebastian looked up and smiled as bright and wide as he could. Kind enough for them both, that was what he could do.

"You're something else, kid…" Atlas muttered and Sebastian swore that for a second he didn't sound like himself. He knew this was probably because Sebastian had worried him, wanting to die would scare any friend.

"Don't know how you managed to get this far. Come on. Head over to port Neptune now. I'm looking forward to shaking your hand."

…  
…

Atlas told him he'd meet him at the submarine where his family was trapped. Sebastian wasn't going to lie, he was excited. He was the only kind voice he'd heard since arrival. His only friend in this place and as far as Sebastian could remember, Atlas might have been his first and only friend _anywhere_.

But it wasn't the only voice he heard. The mad ramblings of splicer was one thing but the citizens of Rapture – before its collapse – left their voices in recordings.

He gathered them, almost obsessed with the things. He wanted to hear their voices, still sane and calm for the most part, coming from these recordings. To remind him that there were good, sane people here once, maybe still to this day in those few hidden places.

They told a story he hadn't imagined from the ruins. Those lost voices spoke of a city that sparkled like a flawless jewel, a place that shone brightly in the dark and held hope for them. At least some of the voices did. Others…others painted a very different picture.

These voices, worn and jaded before the civil war even began, told the tale of a city inching closer towards destruction every single day.

Murkoff is a tyrant some said. Oh, but that crook Blaire is far worse said the others.

Between one and the other, there was no escape. Cave to Murkoff – and Wernicke's – absolute control and risk bringing Jeremy Blaire's ire onto themselves. Or side with Blaire and wait for Wernicke's soldiers to come for them.

Sebastian did not know what to make of these things, didn't know how bad this Blaire character could possibly be until he found the evidence himself. A body strung up, burnt to a crisp under a cascade of water hooked up to electricity. That particular record sent shivers down his spine.

Even torture didn't sway this man. He was so afraid of what Blaire would do to him if he spoke a single word out of life that he died strung up like a pig.

But Blaire was dead.

Had been for a while according to the few papers Sebastian could find. That left Rapture to Murkoff and the people were no better off for it.

He wanted to as Atlas. Wanted to ask him what the world was like before the riots, before the collapse. But even if he'd had the words to use, he would have hesitated. Was it really okay to ask Atlas these things when his world was still in the balance?

His family came first, everything else could wait. Sebastian's questions included.

Atlas instructed him to go to someone that might be able to help. Although he cautioned Sebastian before he approached the man – he wasn't all there in the head sometimes. Which was really not saying much considering the world they were in currently.

Still he kept up high hopes for this one and the man he talked to through the slot in the door seemed sane enough. Although his demands for photos were a little strange. He called himself a scientist, the photos would be some kind study – Sebastian did not question Steve much his rantings weren't exactly sane but they were more coherent than any splicer. Especially when he said Atlas had contacted him ahead of time, giving Sebastian the in he needed.

There was only one thing that irritated Sebastian. The fact he had to die another three times just to collect every single one of those photos. He did seem to be getting better, and Sebastian begrudgingly admitted that studying the splicers did make fighting them easier.

However he still returned to Steve's door, disgruntled and sore. On the way back Atlas chuckled at one point and for all his love for the man, Sebastian could have slapped him in that moment. "Working hard I see." Atlas noted slyly and Sebastian cast the most withering look imaginable at a nearby camera. He was rewarded with the sound of Atlas's warm laughter. "Keep it up, boyo. We're almost there."

Despite how exhausted he was…Sebastian did take relief in that. Especially in hearing his friend laugh.

After having heard him so miserable earlier. Talking about divine punishment for bringing his wife and two children to this place. Sebastian wanted nothing more than to help ease his guilt. It wasn't his fault, he just wanted to protect them.

If he hadn't been so sure it would have broken Atlas's heart to say more, Sebastian would have asked to hear more. Well, if he could have. It was like a small slice of peace to hear Atlas talk fondly of how much of a harpy his wife could be, how much he loved her all the same.

Tough as nails and the most wonderful thing in his life he'd said. His kids, still too young to be left on their own, but old enough to remember the horrors they saw. Smart enough to know they shouldn't cry or complain, but young enough to be allowed to if they had to.

Atlas was missing them something fierce and Sebastian was determined to see them together again.

So he returned to Steve's door, the photos in one hand and his wrench slammed against the metal door with the other. He put up with the man's sharp tone right up until the point he was told to unload all his weapons.

Sebastian balked. For as horrible as these things were – they kept him safe and to be without them was a sentence of death. Many deaths for Sebastian in fact. Terrified he'd be back in the vita chamber before he could so much as blink Sebastian hesitated on following through with Steve's order.

But as always, Atlas was there to steady him. "If that's his price you're going to have to pay it." Atlas huffed, irritated there was a price at all after the ridiculous amount of running around they'd done for those photos. "But don't worry." He continued smoothly and Sebastian could hear the smirk in his words. "He can't very well take your plasmids away, now can he?"

As comforted as he could be by that, Sebastian finally let all his weapons go. Allowing them to drop away into one of the storage containers littered around Rapture. Just as he set down his pistol, Atlas spoke again. "And of course, if Steve forgets his manners you'll have no trouble frying him."

This did not comfort Sebastian, although he knew Atlas meant to be helpful. Smiling grimly to himself Sebastian stepped inside of Steve's lair and almost immediately knew this to be a mistake.

The fog set in quicker than Sebastian was ready and Steve's voice sounded angrily in the darkness. "Now when your boss waggled out of hell. He gone an told the devil he'd be right back. And the devil says, ' _Sure thing Mr. Blaire, I'll hold you a spot_.' Wernicke _promised_ that Blaire was _dust_! I guess that makes Murkoff a bunch of bums and you a…"

He fired up his plasmid before the first splicer even lunged at him.

Sebastian didn't hear the rest of his mad ramblings. He did briefly hear the man shout at Atlas. Something about him being theirs, something about Atlas taking him from them. It didn't matter because suddenly blood was flying and Sebastian was right back to doing what he seemed to always be doing.

Although it was clear that Atlas had expected a fight from the moment Steve first spoke to them.

…  
…

He was still picking the flaking blood off his hands when Atlas spoke again, saying something that lifted Sebastian's heart until he thought it might burst.

"I'm right outside the submarine bay." Which meant he was close and Sebastian was going to meet him finally. But the panic in his voice caused Sebastian to hesitated, to remember there was no room for celebration until Atlas's family was safe.

"But I can't get in. I need you for that." He needed Sebastian and so Sebastian went. He rushed through the water filed tunnels, quickly racing for the place he was needed. As a result he missed vital supplies and ignored the glow of EVE needles where he should have stopped to gather them.

It was his haste that cost him the supplies he desperately needed. But Sebastian couldn't even pretend to feel guilty for this, he felt so close now. So close to finally being able to help Atlas.

The next message came and Sebastian smiled from ear to ear. He mentioned again that he was keen to shake hands but Sebastian knew he would accept nothing less than a hug.

Push the button in the control booth and let him in.

Sebastian reached for the switch only to be startled by a different voice coming through the radio. Wernicke's voice was not raised but there was a soft coldness to it that had Sebastian frozen for a second.

"You do not want to do this." Wernicke told him as though it was a simple fact. "You have had your fun, child. Running around this city, creating a mess wherever you go. Ruining products, damaging our creations – but if you push that button now you'll know what it truly means to make an enemy of Murkoff."

He was afraid. Feeling the weight of Wernicke's warning pushing down on him. It was no idle threat and Sebastian felt like he was about to cross a line he couldn't come back from.

"Can you hear my family in there? Can you hear anything at all?"

Atlas needed him.

Sebastian pressed the button.

The world shook with an explosion that Sebastian was not wholly sure was part of the plan. Nearly being taken off his feet Sebastian was able to steady himself just in time and when he peered out the window—oh.

He saw Atlas. His figure was distant and difficult to make out through the dirty window. He stood by the submarine, frantic but unable to do anything. He then looked up to the window and Sebastian thought for a moment he saw him there.

"You blow a fuse up there?" He demanded, not quite accusing but definitely panicked. "I can't see a damn thing in that booth. Give us a tick and I'll get you out of there." His attention was then taken away, calling to his wife in the submarine desperately.

And Sebastian could do nothing.

"So dark in there…" Wernicke purred. "You're so close but you can't help him at all. If only he could see you when he looked up, maybe you could warn him? If you could do something…anything…except just stand here and watch him die."

No, Sebastian thought. The single word so vicious and vehement that Sebastian nearly threw himself at the glass. The splicers were pouring in and Atlas was being overrun. He shouted to Sebastian and he was following the man's desperate orders before they even finished being spoken.

But what really shocked Sebastian was when Atlas shouted at him to get out. To get out while he still could and be safe. Fighting for his life, family trapped and he still had it in him to care what happened to Sebastian…?

He still….?

There was a second explosion and Sebastian did stumble off balance this time. Falling to the ground as the world lit up bright vibrant oranges, the submarine debris flying in all different directions. Smoke poured out and while Sebastian tried to get his baring back he realised what had happened.

What they had lost.

Through the chaos and the grief, Wernicke spoke again. His voice less smooth now as he became angry with not knowing. "You're no assassin, you're no thief. You do not sneak in but you'll rush. You're no monster…but you are certainly no human. Why have you come here? How have you come to be here?"

Wernicke had questions. They were burning in him nearly as viciously as the flames that now licked around the destroyed sub. They demanded answers but Murkoff was not a company built for answers. It was built to do what all companies must do – create a profit.

Mysteries such as the one of the blonde man that had fallen into Rapture offered no profit and so Wernicke did what he always must for the sake of Murkoff. He abandoned his curiously, his own person and did what must be done.

"There's two ways to deal with a mystery." He told the currently unmoving young man. Still to racked with denial and horror to force himself to move. "Uncover it, or eliminate it."

It was not a question as to which Murkoff would have him choose.

Sebastian did not move for some time. He could hear the splicers crawling down bellow, likely confused as to where he was. But the shock of his failure was still in his system, stopping him from moving.

But Atlas had told him to head to Arcadia and so Sebastian slowly forced his limbs back into obedience. He had to get going…had to do whatever he could to pick up the pieces this tragedy had left behind.

The splicers that got in the way were run down, and those that were far enough away were run past. Nothing was more important than getting to Arcadia. Nothing…besides that submarine.

He stopped, looking at the destroyed vessel as though it were a tomb and then after he'd given what small amount of mourning he could allow himself, Sebastian moved on.

His grief was nothing compared to Atlas's nothing compared to strained snarl of his voice as he worked through sorrow straight into rage.

"How like Murkoff." He spoke through the radio, voice near distorting as it crackled into life. "How bloody, fucking like them. Wait until we're almost out, until we're almost there and they pull it all away from us. Not enough that they owned our mind, bodies and souls. Oh no. Murkoff needs it all, needs every inch of us to belong them."

Sebastian wanted to hush him. Wanted to tell him that he had to calm down – that getting angry would do nothing to help his loss and would only risk giving Murkoff the upper hand. But he had no voice with which to sooth his friend, no words that he could offer to try and make it better.

So he stayed silent and listened to Atlas come undone.

"Well guess what." Atlas continued, voice dropped into a venomous hiss. "You don't fucking own me, Murkoff. Not now, not ever. You don't own me and when we find you, Wernicke, we'll tear your god damn heart out!"

Atlas never said their names. Too painful Sebastian thought. Too painful to speak the names of loved ones just lost.

Instead he dove into his hatred, into his rage and Sebastian was afraid it might destroy him. What little there was left to destroy. So he continued to move forward. Not because he too dreamed of revenge, but because he knew that when the time came he'd have to withhold that vengeance.

He could not allow anger to completely overrule them. Kindness for the both of them, he reminded himself as he continued on.

…

…

Rapture stretched out far in front of him.

The forest of Arcadia nearly poisoned and lost. Another kind voice found and lost just as quickly.

David Annapurna saved his trees. He was able to give Sebastian all he needed to stop Wernicke from sapping them of all their life. Sebastian brought him samples and supplies, David provided the key to using them.

But the forest looked despondent as he left it. The trees wilted and withered, only just clinging to life after Murkoff decided killing their little pest was worth more than keeping those trees healthy.

The only other person that hadn't pointed a gun at him on sight died in a cloud of toxic gas and Sebastian felt the loss almost as strongly as if he'd just watched a true friend die. David Annapurna was by no means a perfect person.

His radio logs proved as such. But he'd fought for those trees, for their air when it counted. It cost him his life and Sebastian felt his rage towards Wernicke stir again.

Eventually they were forced to leave that forest behind and Sebastian quietly mourned for David. Atlas had said he was the alright sort, but he did not seem worried with the man's death.

Sebastian worried more. Had he been too hurt by the loss of his family that he no longer felt remorse for the dead? He had to help Atlas.

Before long Atlas was calling him away, taking him from the forest and calling for Wernicke's blood again. But not before Sebastian hesitated by a particular corner, seeing his friend's names painted over the walls with posters.

 _Who Is Atlas?_

They screamed and Sebastian stared. Marveling at the depiction of his friend. A strong leader, a hero, someone who cared. Was this who his friend was? Why had he never said anything?

"You might hear things about me, see my name about." Atlas nearly whispered through the radio, having seen Sebastian staring. "Think what you will, there was a time I cared about politics. But that's just an excuse men use to not get a job done. To not do what they need to do. To kill people who don't need to die. I'm done with it. I don't want you thinking about it either…lets just move on."

It took some time but eventually Sebastian tore himself away and continued on. But not before Wernicke appeared again. His voice less welcome as it came over the radio.

"I understand now." He spoke, furious and only barely able to keep his voice level. "How you are so resistant to the traditional methods of separating a man from his soul. You really aren't some lost child or capable murder – _you belong to Atlas._ The one person Murkoff cannot seem to rid themselves of."

A pause and then more quietly, a vile promise.

"Worry not. Time is all we need to find the proper poison."

…

…

Fort Frolic was a different experience. One Sebastian found didn't agree with him.

It was too bright, too large, too obtuse. But then again, what in Rapture was not larger than life? Atlas spoke to him again, clearly pushed to move more quickly to closer they got to Wernicke.

"Unfortunately Wernicke has handed the keys to Fort Frolic over to a freak named Eddie Gluskin. An artist he calls himself, a gentleman even. I say there's a paddle cell somewhere with his name all over it. I've seen all kinds of cutthroats, freaks, and hard cases in my life, but Gluskin, he's a real lunatic, a dyed-in-the-wool psychopath…"

Atlas trailed for a moment and then began to speak again. Tone quieter, more apprehensive. Anxious even. "Listen to me, boyo. That man, you don't want him getting anywhere near you. I know you have to go in there, we have to get to Murkoff but…you gotta be careful in there, kid. If you think he's sweet on you, even a little bit then would you kindly hightail it out of th-"

Atlas was suddenly gone.

Sebastian panicked, grabbing at his radio as the static washed over the rest of what Atlas was about to tell him. At first there was nothing but that horrible fuzzing sound and then suddenly…a new voice. One he didn't recognize.

"Ah." It breathed out, as though it hadn't taken a deep breath in years and was finally free to fill his lungs again. "That's much better. Atlas, Ryan, Atlas, Ryan, duh, duh, duh, duh. There was a time where you could listen to something sweet, wholesome on the radio. Oh but no more, all that…squabbling, assaulting the ears of good, kind folk. It's simply a crime!"

It dawned on Sebastian who this must be. This…Gluskin?

"Well, it is the duty of a gentleman to delight the spirit and keep the soul pure, so say goodbye to those two ruffians, and hello to an evening with Eddie Gluskin."

That sounded ominous and going by the man's voice, Atlas's warning and literally everything else in Rapture – Sebastian knew it was likely worse than he could even begin to imagine. With nothing else to do and nowhere else to go but forward, Sebastian approached Gluskin's land, Atlas's final words ringing loudly in the back of his mind. Ever present to keep his nerves wound tight.

"Well, my, my, my." Gluskin chimed, sounding ecstatic to see Sebastian as he entered the other man's domain. "I haven't seen any sign of real life down here in months. Oh sweetheart, you wouldn't be just another wretch would you? Not another ingrate come to messy up my home? No…maybe you're something more delicious."

He was decidedly not okay with this man's tone or his words but still Sebastian ventured inside. Only to be met with a slew of splicers. Of course…when in Rapture.

He drew his gun.


	3. OutShock2

Gluskin was there every step of the way and it left Sebastian's nerves highly strung in a way that Atlas's voice just never would have. The praise left him feeling slimy, the words of admiration and passion misplaced. As though they were for someone else, some other darling that Gluskin had just traded Sebastian in for.

But regardless he welcomed Sebastian in, spouting off about poor manners for not having been a more gracious host earlier. Sebastian wished he could believe the man would try to be a good host, but this was Rapture and Gluskin seemed about as sane as the last hundred splicers he'd been through.

About as sane, but far more frightening.

He spoke of tests, to see if Sebastian was a good wholesome person with traditional values. It did not dawn on him until Gluskin uttered one of his favorite phrases that the crazed man didn't seem to think he was a man at all.

This was, while certainly unsettling, not the worst thing he'd experienced since arriving.

What he saw first in Gluskin's domain however might make the top ten of most horrible things. Strung up on stage was a body. Something that had once been a man no doubt but was now unrecognizable. chest torn open in some futile attempt to create a womb, genital nothing more than a gory mess and the rest of the body….slashed, caved in, bruised and battered. Evidence that this person's abuse had extended long before and after death.

But what really burned itself into Sebastian's mind was how fresh this body was. He'd been here long enough, seen enough corpses to know…and this one couldn't have been more than an hour old.

Sebastian could not stop his immediate reaction. All those packets of chips and health bars he'd been eating coming back up his throat in bile. It burnt as he was sick and collapsed back to his knees. Through his radio Gluskin apologized.

"Yes, yes, I know. Dreadful isn't it? This…this _whore_ , strung up for everyone to see. Oh your poor eyes, you must feel so filthy. Come through, come into my home – I have a job for you to do. It will help put all this nastiness behind you darling. And then I will send you to Murkoff's door, darling."

He didn't believe Gluskin for a single second but still forced his legs to keep moving, to walk away from that gruesome sight. Sebastian would do nearly anything to get this over with. To get away from this place and back to a place where he could hear Atlas again. But he wasn't getting anywhere until he'd dealt with Gluskin.

He wanted photos. Another lunatic that demanded photos. This time for art and Sebastian had little choice but to obey.

"To find a good woman, one must first weed through all the harlots, banshees and wenches to find her. Like picking out a single thread of gold among nothing but chaff." Gluskin explained gleefully as Sebastian fumbled with his camera. Wishing he didn't have to add to the degradation of the dead in this way.

The first picture was easy. The subject already dead. The next two were harder. Because Gluskin insisted he kill his ex lovers. He spat venomously about them, about how unclean and ungrateful they were. Not real women he said and for once Sebastian agreed. Seeing as each of them were men when he found them.

At least they used to be.

These ones still ticked, moved and screamed. Their stitches messy, barely holding together the monstrous bodies they'd been given by Gluskin. They wore dirty, shredded dresses, which like their bodies were once white and were now defaced.

Sebastian felt pity for these people, but they came at him the same as any splicer. Perhaps more viciously than most others. He could feel their anger in every movement, they despised Gluskin and to these lost men he was little more than an extension of that monster.

Mercy killings, Sebastian reminded himself as the bullet passed through the second man's ears, and he went plummeting to the ground. Death was a gift for people that could no longer live without suffering and once again Sebastian had to stop and observe the dead.

He took the camera out and in a last ditch effort to make this less debasing, Sebastian moved the corpse slightly. Laying them out as if they were sleeping instead of leaving them sprawled on the ground as he took the photo. It was the smallest mercy he could allow.

That was three of the man's masterpiece completed, just one left now.

He placed the image with the others, standing back to look over the display. It was an oversight on his part not to school his expression into something neutral. "That's three of four…" Gluskin began, sounding overjoyed until he suddenly stopped dead. Sebastian only had a split second to wonder what had happened before the man's voice returned, low and frantic but growing louder with every word.

"What's that look, love? You don't like it…do you?" He mourned and Sebastian opened his mouth as if he could form the words to protest. But even if he'd had the ability, there was no lie convincing enough to wash away his disgust for this horrid affair. "I don't need to be judged by you. By any of you ungrateful whores! I'll kill you, I'll kill all you fucking sluts! Here's what you get!"

A small, cold part of Sebastian wanted to roll his eyes as the splicer's came running. He raised his hand and set the first two alight and as they screamed he cursed Gluskin for sending them at all. Hadn't he been watching? Hadn't he seen what Sebastian did? Did he not understand that splicers, for as horrible and cut throat as they could be – had no chance against a creature like himself?

The result of Gluskin's outburst was a pile of fresh bodies and one visit to the vita chamber. Sebastian was left panting and covered with a fresh layer of blood. Then as though the whole activity had been some way to just vent, Gluskin spoke again. Voice full of apologises and sweet assurances.

"I do apologize for that outburst. You'll have to forgive an old fool and his delicate heart. You must know how nervous a father is before their child is born. The birth is so close now. The labor pains can blur the judgment and drive the ugly passions of even the finest spirits." Sebastian's head whipped up towards the center stage and the mad man's master piece, expression twisted into a snarl he hadn't known he could wear until that moment.

Gluskin was not at all put off this time. Instead he positively purred. "A woman like you is hard to find, so silent and dutiful. A good enough woman to weather through a man's moment of weakness and not utter a single complaint. Simply marvelous. Such a sweet angel to be so obedient."

Sebastian's fingers traced along his throat, his glare falling into a look of despair. He couldn't speak a single word, left with no choice but to do as Gluskin demanded and this man thought him an angel for it.

Just one more. Sebastian told himself as he turned away from the 'art'. One more and he'd be out of this place.

Except it wasn't that easy. He should have known it wouldn't be. Because as Sebastian worked his way through Gluskin's little world of oddities and horrors, Sebastian caught the sound of quiet words. At first he mistook this for the whispers of a splicer, and prepared himself for another fight. But as he approached, Sebastian was taken off guard by how together the voice sounded.

"Where's your Mr. bubbles?" The voice was asking gently and Sebastian's heart leapt into his throat when a little girl's sob was the answer. Suddenly his head was filled with ghastly images of a little sister left without her big daddy, a splicer advancing on her and ripping the slug out of her body just for a drop of ADAM.

Pushed forward by a familiar anger, Sebastian rounded the corner, shotgun drawn and already taking aim at the first figure he saw.

Usually the shotgun was reserved for later in a fight, a sort of failsafe if things got too messy. But with the possibility of a little sister on the line, it came out early. Sebastian fully intended to blast the splicer's head off the moment he could be confident the shot wouldn't harm the child.

The shriek of a little sister turned his blood to ice, focused his attention on the job at hand and he had the shot. Crouching in front of a little sister was a male splicer. The man jerked upright instantly at the sound her scream and as Sebastian's finger twitched on the trigger the splicer whipped around to face him.

It wasn't the fact that the man's face was void of any trace of ADAM abuse, his alert fully conscious eyes, or even his terrified expression that stopped Sebastian from pulling the trigger. Instead it was the words he shouted upon seeing the gun pointed his way.

"Don't hurt her!"

The man's arms were held out in defense of the little sister and even though Sebastian could see him shaking where he stood, the stranger didn't move an inch. Refusing to let the little girl into harms way. Behind him the little sister cowered away from Sebastian, fingers clinging to the stranger's leg. That was…unusual. No matter what a little sister would run away from anyone that approached them, back to the safety of a big daddy and if there was no metal guardian to guard them, they raced back to their crawl holes.

Even those brief moments where Sebastian had been able to save them, they fought against him until they were free of their terrible existence. But this one hugged close to the stranger's legs, looking scared of the shotgun wielding man but not her human guardian.

Hesitating Sebastian's finger eased off the trigger but the gun didn't lower. Not trusting this man to not try and drain her of ADAM. But studying him a bit more closely…the blonde didn't look like he'd so much as looked twice at a plasmid.

Actually looking at him now… _what on god's green earth was he wearing?_

The thick woolen sweater, that was at least two sizes too big for the man, was the most ridiculous pale yellow and it was an absolute mess. Too many ink stains to count and a few rips here and there but not a spot of blood on him. What made the man think wearing that around Rapture was a good idea?

Well kettle, meet pot. Sebastian thought as he looked down at his own white hoodie. However he had nothing else to wear and the hoodie returned fresh with every trip to the vita chamber. At least he had an excuse for his poor wardrobe choice.

"Please." The stranger stressed. "I…I won't let you hurt her. Just…get ADAM some other way, she's just a kid. Leave her alone, _please_."

Finally Sebastian lowered the gun. He nearly dropped it; thinking that would have comforted the man a little more but it would be an empty gesture. Sebastian was never without weapons. His entire body was a weapon at all times, but the gesture was made to show he meant no harm.

Once again he bemoaned his lack of words.

Relief and shock washed over the stranger's face and for a few seconds he wasn't willing to move an inch, waiting for the blood-covered man to change his mind and raise the gun again. But the seconds continued to trickle on by and nothing. Sebastian was willing to wait.

Eventually the stranger turned back towards the child.

"Back to the vent with you." He told her in a gentle shushed tone. "Don't come out until Mr. Bubbles comes to get you." The child still looked scared but seemed to be listening to him.

When she began to move Sebastian instinctively stepped forward, reaching out as if he could stop her. If she ran off now he couldn't rescue her.

The man mistook his actions for hostile and Sebastian was actually a little bit surprised when the man lashed out and punched him.

It wasn't the act of violent that shocked him, more the hilarity of it. A _punch_? It only dawned on Sebastian then that this man was unarmed. He had no plasmids, no weapons to speak of. Absolutely nothing and he still tried to protect the little sister with his fist.

If Sebastian was able, he would have laughed until he cried.

"S-Stay back!" The man barked, although the sound was closer to that of a yelp. "I'm warning you!"

Sebastian struggled with his choices.

On the one hand he really didn't want to hurt this person. This guy was the first human he'd met that didn't immediately try to claw his eyes out and Sebastian couldn't put into words how badly he wanted to just speak with him.

But on the other hand, he needed to get to that sister before she escaped.

Sorry. He thought idly and with one throw of his hand Sebastian knocked the poor man off his feet with a wave of telekinesis. It felt like cheating and he winced in sympathy pain when the man hit the ground but didn't stop to worry about how hard he'd landed.

Instead he rushed forward to scoop up the child in his arms. She screamed and squirmed as they always did. Right up until the point his hand rest against her head and the light raced up through their veins.

The sudden burst of light was such a relief and Sebastian hugged the now once again human girl to his chest tightly for a few seconds. Allowing her the time she needed to settle back in reality.

Slowly she blinked her eyes back open and only then did Sebastian gently set her back down on her own two feet. In a moment of affection Sebastian pat the girls head as she smiled up at him. He then watched as she rushed over to the fallen man, sitting up and frozen in a pose that implied he'd been rushing for Sebastian and the girl before he'd been stopped in place by what he saw.

The girl hugged the still stranger tightly, whispering something to him before she stepped away, looked between the two, curtsied and rushed off for a vent. Sebastian watched her go, hand crackling with lightening. Just in case some splicer tried their luck at snatching her up.

Once the former little sister was safely inside the vent, Sebastian's hand lost all its light and for once appeared to be human again. He stepped over to the man who stared at him like he was some sort of mirage and silently offered his hand.

Sebastian smiled for good measure.

 _Hello_. He would have said. _Would you like to be my friend?_

…  
…

Waylon, that was the man's name. Sebastian had been happy to sit and listen to the man talk for a while.

After the initial shock of meeting someone that didn't want to eat his eyeballs had worn off, Waylon was a rather talkative sort of guy. He had lots of questions for Sebastian but figured out pretty quickly that his new friend wasn't nearly as talkative.

"Mute, huh?" Waylon had mumbled, looking sympathetically at his friend. Sebastian kept his expression warm, almost having forgotten how to do that with no one around to smile to most of the time and shrugged. He didn't want Waylon to feel guilty for asking things when he couldn't answer.

He didn't want Waylon to stop talking.

Every word rushed over him and pulled a little bit of the weight on his shoulders off. Just a little more with each word until Sebastian felt as light as he had when he first awoke. Maybe even more so.

"How are you here?" Waylon wondered out loud. "Here and not absolutely nuts?" Sometimes Sebastian thought he was crazy but if Waylon was willing to say he was still sane, Sebastian wasn't about to argue. "I guess we're both stuck. Gluskin's got the whole place crawling with splicers and all the exits blocked up." Waylon eventually muttered, arms curling around his legs as he jammed them up tight to his chest.

At the mention of Gluskin, Sebastian perked up suddenly. Reaching back into his bag he pulled out his camera and showed Waylon the pictures he'd been taking. At first all he got was a horrified stare. He had to explain that this was not a hobby. It was then that Sebastian learnt he was no good at charades.

It took a while and it looked like Waylon had been getting ready to bolt, worried he'd just sat down with a nut job that took photos of his victims. Which…if they were to be nothing but technical was almost true. He had killed every single person in those pictures, was it still murder if he didn't want to do it? If they'd forced his hand and tried to kill him first?

Probably.

"Gluskin's got you working on that freaky statue thing?" Waylon asked aghast by this. "Oh shit…oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh god damn fucking _shit_."

Sebastian was a little taken aback hearing Waylon swear, he was such a petite, kind looking thing. Hearing course language from him was shocking. With what he said next it was understandable.

"He wants me as the fourth." Waylon whispered, curled into a tight ball and shaking. "I've been hiding from that guy for days now. I thought he'd forgotten about me but… oh god."

Sebastian wanted to reach out and comfort Waylon. He moved to do just that but felt his hand suddenly lighting up again. He hadn't told it to do that, but almost as though it moved of it's own accord, lightening began to rush through his fingers and Sebastian realised with a sinking feeling of dread that, even without knowing he'd been doing it, he'd been preparing to kill Waylon.

Just like he was another step to take, another body to leave behind to get back to Atlas and their mission. Just like that…

Scared by himself Sebastian killed the plasmid before Waylon could notice. He was already jumpy enough without noticing his new friends murderous tendencies.

"What are we going to do?" Waylon whispered and Sebastian jolted in alarm when he heard the blond bordering on tears. He didn't want to die down here and he sure as hell didn't want to become one of Gluskin's artworks.

Sebastian hadn't heard from Gluskin in a while. He noticed there were dark spots; his coverage of the area wasn't as good as that of Murkoff or Atlas. He lost sight of Sebastian from time to time. He hadn't said anything since he met with Waylon and if he was expecting Waylon to be the fourth he most certainly would have said something.

Especially considering Waylon had been hiding from him all this time. That meant that right now Gluskin couldn't see them.

A corpse couldn't talk, breath and move like Waylon did…but a photo didn't need to move.

"What are you smiling at?" Waylon asked anxiously when he saw Sebastian beginning to move. He made a choked sound when Sebastian removed his bloodied hoodie. "What are you doing!" He scrambled back only to have his back meet with the wooden shelf behind him. They'd taken refuge behind the bar and Sebastian was thankful for it now as his back was exposed to the open air.

Waylon drew in a little hiss of horror. Sorry, Sebastian wanted to say, knowing that his body was likely a disaster. The vita chamber gave him back to the world fresh as a daisy, but Sebastian knew he'd been scarred before the first time he died.

Why he couldn't remember where the scars littering his body came from, well it scared Sebastian but in Rapture there were more important things to be scared of.

He offered the disgusting hoodie to Waylon, who rightfully recoiled. Explaining his idea took more time than they had. Plenty of pointing to his camera and then the hoodie. Again he wished he could just have some paper and a pen.

But eventually Waylon got the idea. Watching him struggle into the clothes and cringe as the wet spots of blood smeared against his skin was amusing, in a morbid kind of way. Finally he was in the hoodie, still too big against his lanky form but a little more convincing. For now he'd have to borrow Waylon's ugly sweater. Thankfully it wasn't quite as large on him as it had been on Waylon.

Curious Sebastian took a moment to pick at the fabric and wonder if he'd come back wearing this if he died. Better not to get into that, better yet if he just didn't die again.

Sebastian then gestured for Waylon to come closer and let him mess up his hair a little. Waylon made soft audible complaints but didn't try to stop Sebastian as he ruffled his hair, smeared blood across his face and made some rips in his own hoodie to really sell it.

Then he paused, purposefully meeting Waylon's eyes as he lifted both hands. With one he offered a first aid kit – his last actually – and with the other his hand lit up with lightening. Waylon got the idea and again the fear returned.

"You…" He gulped. "You know how to do with without um…actually _killing_ me?"

Being unable to speak was a small relief just then, Waylon wouldn't be able to hear how unsure he was and instead Sebastian just managed an idle smile, waiting for the man to say he was ready.

This would be his last little bit of EVE as well. To be honest, this whole situation was looking worse and worse. But they had no other viable choices left.

"Well…alright." Waylon allowed, standing up finally and shuffling away from anything he might knock his head on when he fell. "Just be careful when you electrocute me, yeah? Oh god this is a bad idea."

Bad idea maybe, but the only one they had right now. Sebastian waited a little longer for Waylon to steel himself and when it seemed he was finally ready he lifted his hand, took a deep breath and fired.

The blast of electricity stuck Waylon and for a moment the world lit up. Waylon screamed and Sebastian winced at the sound but even as his new friend shrieked in pain, he was going for his camera. Needing to make sure there'd be some light around Waylon when he got that photo. They needed everything about this to be convincing and so even as Waylon hit the ground, Sebastian was taking the photo.

With the picture taken Sebastian dropped down to his knees, reaching out to see if Waylon was still breathing. He found a pulse and saw the man's chest rising and falling, allowing himself a small breath of relief Sebastian got back to his feet.

With this Gluskin would open up the gates and allow them both escape. He wouldn't realise he was letting Waylon run free as well.

He knew he had to leave Waylon there and that scared him. He didn't know how long it would take Waylon to wake up…he couldn't just leave him undefended. Taking the time, Sebastian carefully set down a few proximity mines; far enough away that Waylon wasn't likely to stumble into them when he woke up. Then as he left, Sebastian made sure to hack every single device he could find, giving Waylon a few robotic eyes and drones to protect his area.

And still it did not feel like enough. But he had no choice, Gluskin would be getting suspicious if he was gone much longer and so he began to make his way back to the stage.

He knew the moment Gluskin could see him again because the radio came to life.

The man always had something to say about those Sebastian photographed. "He was a nasty one ... and my favorite darling. But I think I like him better this way." The sheer amount of pleasure Gluskin took from what he thought was a picture of Waylon dead on the floor of Rapture caused Sebastian to shudder.

Regardless he set the photo among the others and looked upwards as if to say, I've done my part – let me out now. Take me to the path to Murkoff. You promised.

"You've done a lovely job, angel." That was Gluskin's voice and Sebastian ought to have been used to hearing it…except in this instance there was no static to accompany it.

A shiver crawled up Sebastian's spine, every hair standing on its end as understanding settled in. He felt the body behind him only now, too late to do anything. "Just one last thing to do with you, precious."

Gluskin's voice cooed and Sebastian spun quickly; trying to do anything but for all his speed Sebastian wasn't fast enough this time.

All it took was a blow to the head and Sebastian was vanishing from the waking world again. It occurred to him as he fell that he wasn't dying, that if he were he'd return to a vita chamber and be able to sneak around the man.

But no…Gluskin wasn't killing him and he was trapped.

…

…

The first thing Sebastian heard when he began to wake up was singing.

It wasn't the usual string of songs Rapture had playing all over the city. It was new, unusual and Sebastian drew no comfort from it.

"When I was a boy my mother often said to me: 'Get married, son, and see how happy you will be.' I have looked all over, but no girlie can I find, who seems to be just like the little girl I have in mind; I will have to look around until the right one I have found."

The man's voice hummed low and cheerful and it took Sebastian's shaken mind to put a name to that voice. Gluskin was still here. Briefly Atlas's warnings came back to him. Don't let him anywhere near, gotta be careful, hightail it out of th—

He had rather effectively managed to get himself into the exact situation that Atlas had warned him about and when Sebastian tried to move and found his arms fixed firmly down at his sides. Panic began to creep in and the more he struggled, the closer that humming voice came until finally it was right next to him.

"Oh hush, hush." Gluskin whispered, his fingers deceptively gentle as they brushed against Sebastian's cheek. He flinched away in response. "Now I know you don't like it, darling. I know it's not comfortable, I don't like it either I promise. But until I know you can behave the ropes have to stay, okay? I'm sure you understand."

The worst part of it was that he _did_. In some horrible twisted way he understood exactly why Gluskin needed those ropes. He'd been watching after all, he knew what Sebastian could do when free. He should have also known what he could do even stripped of his weapons. Sebastian tried to call up a plasmid, only to feel his veins sting, hollow and empty of fuel.

Ah…he'd forgotten about that.

Gluskin smiled knowingly down at him, the expression far too gentle for the man's face. "Out of EVE are we sweetheart? Not to worry, once you're settled in I'll provide everything you could need. But first…a few minor infractions to clear up."

The man's eyes settled purposefully on his captive's body, specifically his groin. All at once images of that first corpse returned to Sebastian. Chest torn open, efforts to change gender made through a knife even while in a city that could rewrite a person's everything with ease.

Sebastian's struggles began anew, desperately pulling at the straps that held him down even as his eyes remained glued onto Gluskin's face. Too scared to look away for so much as a second. This time his efforts did irritate the man.

"Really now dear." He chided bitterly. "Such a fuss, it's like you don't trust me." Those hands weren't gentle anymore. Sebastian choked at they tightened around his throat. "That's right." Gluskin encouraged as Sebastian began had fallen still, unable to drag in the air he needed to fight. "There's a good girl…oh darling. You could be so beautiful. Just let me help you."

Help, he definitely needed that but Gluskin was unlikely to be the one to provide it.

"All of Rapture has been watching you sweet thing. Enchanted by this quiet little angel. And the things you've done. Oh, they're a sin, darling." Gluskin purred and Sebastian's heart grew cold in his chest.

A sin? Well…maybe. Then what did that make this, _punishment_?

Suddenly his leaden limbs stayed down at his sides without any need for force or leather restraints. He could just lay down and waited. Surely once Gluskin got to work, started cutting, he'd bleed out and be free of this. Every bit of pain earned by the things he'd done. But then Sebastian recalled Atlas's last words to him.

Hightail it out of there wasn't it? Laying down and accepting punishment was no longer an option.

With no words to use as weapons, to find a way to wiggle himself around Gluskin's mind, Sebastian had no choice but to get creative.

He was doting on him, at least as much as a mad man could dote on anything. Sebastian wondered if he could use this to his advantage. This time when he moved he wasn't struggling, but squirming.

The change was clearly noticed as Gluskin's brows furrowed in confusion, watching Sebastian's body writhe for a moment without understanding what was happening. When the man looked at Sebastian's face next he was met with unshed tears and a look of agony.

Immediately the delusional artist jumped to remedy the situation. His angel weeping? On his watch? _Unacceptable_.

"I've been a little... _vulgar_. I know. And I want to say, I'm sorry. I just... you know how a man gets when he wants to know a woman." He explained desperately, trying to apologize for any wrong doings, although he saw none himself.

However his words did nothing to comfort the poor blonde angel who was still shaking and squirming. It took Gluskin a moment to realise what it was he wanted, he was trying to reach up for him. Instantaneously Gluskin's gaze softened.

"Oh you poor thing. Have those brutes been hurting you? Mistreating you? Well we can't be having that." He didn't care what Gluskin called it; the result was exactly what Sebastian wanted.

Concerned for his little angel Gluskin began to loosen the bonds and Sebastian had to fight down the urge to not immediately try to run. For all his quirks, the compulsions and misconceptions Gluskin was under that forced him to give a prison an opening to escape – Gluskin was not dumb.

His eyes were on Sebastian. Narrowed, calculating, as if they were daring him to make one wrong move. So he didn't run the moment the cuffs were loosened. Instead Sebastian surged up to wrap his arms around Gluskin's neck.

The man tensed under his trembling arms, no doubt taking a moment to work his mind around the hug. It was a rather rare thing to experience in Rapture now days he'd bet. Although Rapture had seemed stoic and loveless even before its decline. Who knows how long it had been since Gluskin had someone willingly touch him.

Then slowly Gluskin's large arms encircled Sebastian in return and he let out a pleased hum. "So forward, darling. Wouldn't have thought you were the type." Something like disgust crawled up Sebastian's throat. He did not need Gluskin thinking he was angling for anything more than clothed touches.

Miserably Sebastian peeked through his eyelashes, looking around the room. It looked like Gluskin's room, if the wedding dress adorned dummies and drawings scattered around were anything to go off. What surprised Sebastian was the presence of a little sister's vent in the room. What was something like that doing here? His mind idly reminded him of Gluskin's apparent good standing with Murkoff before things went to hell. The favour he held there, perhaps this was just one of those quirks. The thought made Sebastian's insides twist up and anger dripped into his mind. Forcing its way among all the fear.

Now what would a man like Gluskin want with little sisters? ADAM might have persuaded most people, but Sebastian thought the 'artist' might have very different purposes for them. Unconsciously his fingers tightened into Eddie's vest, nearly becoming claws.

The longer he stared, the worse it became. At first Sebastian mistook the dress clad figures for dummies, a second later he saw that they were far too detailed for any doll or dummy. Not only were they too detailed, some were beginning to rot.

Biting back his instinct to gag Sebastian managed to get away with only a shudder of disgust, pushing back tears as he once again thought of all the horrible fates Rapture brought onto people.

Gluskin mistook his revulsion for fear of a different kind.

"Did those swine put their hands on you, angel?" He demanded, suddenly with Sebastian being held at arms length, eyes alight with a fire that caused the blonde prisoner's insides to curl up in anxiety. "Did they touch you, precious?" He continued, relentless in his demands.

Briefly Dr. Andrew crossed Sebastian's thoughts and his stomach twisted into a second knot. Yes, he nodded slowly. Not sure if the truth was the answer Gluskin should be given.

It was.

"Those beasts!" Gluskin snarled, stepping up off the bed and releasing Sebastian in his rage. "Those foul, loathsome, vile creatures. To lay hands on an angel before her wedding night! Perish the thought. Oh darling, no wonder you're so skittish. Has my forwardness frightened you? Reminded you of those… _those_ _animals_?"

A dangerous question.

Sebastian knew he could not answer yes to this without offending the man. So he instead allowed his eyes to tear up a little more, it was amazing how easy crying became after he'd gathered so many reasons to.

Looking as pitiful as he could Sebastian once again reached out for Eddie, this time the larger man caught his hand, cupping it gently and pulling Sebastian forward to his chest.

The act of tenderness seemed to calm Gluskin for just a moment. Taking a deep breath he pressed Sebastian's pliant hand against his cheek and Sebastian felt the extent of his scarring for the first time. Was that because of splicing?

"Yes of course…" Gluskin murmured, making up the meanings behind Sebastian's actions he wanted to believe. "How careless of me. I must be more gentle with you. Must give you more attention. Worry not darling, once you're perfect – once I've made you more beautiful than any painting – all will be better. I promise you, I'll be a changed man."

If it were not for the fact that scoffing would have definitely invoked the larger man's rage, Sebastian would have. A changed man? Now what poor fool would really fall for that? Sebastian's head swam with reasons that would never happen. Observations about human nature he hadn't even been aware he knew anything about. A ring wouldn't make a couple stick, a baby wouldn't hold back a fist. There was no easy fix to such problems – and yet people persisted in trying them.

Sebastian wanted to use words. Wanted to ask when he'd be perfect, ask if he could get some privacy to clean himself – a number of different lies and words came to mind. All designed to get Gluskin out of the room, and thinking that Sebastian bought into this whole honest woman proposal. But he had no words, one of the reason Eddie liked him so much.

He felt dirty just thinking it.

Thankfully Gluskin's mind had made an image for Sebastian, it gave him the lies he needed without a single word being uttered.

"Of course I wouldn't do anything to put your virtue at risk." He assured Sebastian who thought there was really nothing virtuous left inside of him. Couldn't be when there was so much blood on his hands. Then again apparently he still had at least something left to ruin, hadn't even known it until Gluskin's hands were on him.

Tensing as the realization washed over him, smothering any other rational thought as he began to panic. The man's hands were large, calloused and dangerously strong as they laid against Sebastian's thighs. But they were gentle, for the time being.

With him at least. With what remained of his pants, a little less so. The sound of what had once been simple rips in the fabric being torn open further nearly had Sebastian scrambling up the headboard. It was only the steely grasp Gluskin kept on him that held him place.

"Forgive me, angel." Gluskin was saying, his voice only just reaching Sebastian through his panic. "I know it's not becoming of a man to see so much of a woman before they are married…but we really must take care of these deformities."

The knife came out and Sebastian's frantic mind only had a moment to wonder where the man had been keeping it before everything turned white. His kicking had not been appreciated by the larger man. "I should restrain you." Gluskin muttered under his breath, the knife still nestled deeply in Sebastian's leg for a second or two longer. "I'd hate to scar you, angel. Oh, but we both know you heal up wonderfully."

The blood welling up around the blade was sobering. Sebastian had no words to get him out of this, his acts of self-preservation only taking them so far before he effectively ran out of tricks.

There was only one left.

A glance towards the little sister vent and Sebastian's mind turned cold. Bodies strung up for everyone to gawk at. Children used and thrown aside. There was only so much a man could take before it all became too much.

Gluskin found Sebastian's limit.

Pain was something of an obstacle at first. Neither he nor Gluskin had expected him to push through it so recklessly. Shoving upwards, pulling the knife along with him. It jostled inside of his flesh but Sebastian paid it no mind, in fact the only coherent thought to do with that blade was that it ought to stay in his leg till he was read to get it.

Eddie grunted more in surprise than pain when Sebastian's fist caught him across the face. The surprise quickly turned into rage and he turned to snarl at Sebastian. He didn't stop to clock the expression and instead pulled the rest of his body up off the bed, flinging himself inelegantly over the edge. One hand shot out towards Gluskin again, trying to work in the limited window of time he had before the man was on him again.

His fingers always were too bony for his own good and Sebastian found absolutely no satisfaction in the dreadful squelching sound they made when entering Eddie's eye.

Howling in pain the man tore away from Sebastian, hands flinging up to his now profusely bleeding face, as expletives slipped from his tongue.

But Sebastian was still moving, mind empty and on autopilot as the fingers not coated in fresh blood and a liquid that Sebastian knew must have come from Eddie when his eye burst, settling on the knife in his leg. One swift jerk, a spray of blood and a small hiss of pain later he had the blade in hand.

It lifted in Eddie's direction, but didn't pull down on his prone form.

When the man turned to look at his now free captive, there was a spark of recognition there. Something from the days when he could have been called sane and it unsettled Sebastian. Deep in his bones, he felt ice running at the sight of Eddie's leering grin.

Anger he expected, blind rage that threatened to rip him apart – all that Sebastian was prepared for. But a moment of clarity he hadn't counted on.

"Oh that's right, angel." Gluskin snapped viciously, none of his earlier composure to be found in his face or words. The pain made his voice tight but his anger kept the words strong. "Soaked in blood wherever you go. That part of you, what you pretend to be. That saintly face you show everyone, ha…that's just on the surface. Isn't it angel? You can't hide it from me. You're not what you're meant to be. Not yet."

Something about the words of a maniac still chilled Sebastian. He couldn't seem to pull away, he listened as the man spoke and a horrible niggling doubt came to reside in his mind. Gluskin smirked at him, seeing the hesitation on his face clear as day.

"But you will be."

It was not out of anger or fear for his life that Sebastian lashed out of Gluskin now. It was desperation. Pure and primal, anything to stop the man from speaking anymore. To let his words sink in any deeper.

It was testament to the man's strength and insanity that he only laughed when Sebastian jammed the knife against his throat. Looking up at the blonde with little more than a satisfied smile.

"You're no darling." Gluskin said finally and Sebastian was taken off guard by the resignation in his voice. "It was a foolish man's dream to think you'd be the one. But no…you're no honest woman. You're a sin, angel."

Then as though this was little more than a casual conversation Gluskin gestured towards the doors. Sebastian's eyes followed the movement but he did not trust himself or the man under the knife to do anymore than that. "As promised, the doors are open." Gluskin told him calmly. "You'll find your way to Murkoff's elite through them. I am a man of my word, angel."

With that Gluskin's one remaining good eye raked over Sebastian's body and he let out a disappointed hum. "Although there are times where I wish I weren't. Oh the master piece I could have made out of you."

The knife eased off. Sebastian tested the waters, watching for any sign that Gluskin intended to come at him again. But the man remained still, watching with that ceaselessly pleased look plastered over his face.

Smiling like he knew a secret.

Kill him. A small voice in Sebastian's head suggested. Why not? He was little better than a splicer by this point and hadn't they torn through hundreds of those already?

Sebastian stared at Gluskin's bloodied face and wondered if beyond all that madness there might still be a man. If they could destroy Murkoff and he and Atlas were able to find a safe way home…would there be any point in coming back to see if Eddie might come with them.

Maybe the surface could help him. Maybe there was some place…

"Hush now little angel." Gluskin whispered and Sebastian tensed. "Your thoughts are the loudest I've ever heard. Not a word and still so transparent." The smile Eddie wore now, for all the scarring of his face and malicious shine in his eyes, was gentle.

Some things were too far-gone.

Miserably Sebastian looked a little longer at Gluskin before he ran. The effort of moving quickly was sapping his strength and pain tolerance rapidly but Sebastian had to be free of this place and so he ran. Ignoring the searing pain striking up his thigh from the hole Gluskin had torn in him.

That was easy enough to ignore. But Gluskin's parting expression and words of what he could be. What he will be. That stuck with him long after Eddie Gluskin's horrors were left behind.

…  
…

"What happened to you?" Was Atlas's first question, voice haggard with worry and frustration, as Sebastian came stumbling out of Gluskin's territory. Amazingly still in one piece, if just a little worse for wear. "I've been trying to find your sorry ass for a damn dog's age over here. What the hell was so bleeding important that you…?"

Atlas's anger tapered off into a low snarl of frustration. Then after a moment there was a heavy sigh as the man's anxiety eased, knowing that Sebastian was back and still breathing.

He was still there. Everything was fine.

"Never mind. Would you kindly leg it over to the 'sphere and get on down to Hephaestus? It's time to settle our debt with Murkoff." There was still an impatient edge to his words but Atlas was no longer openly furious.

The blonde started walking, every step taking him a little further away from that…that nightmare. The painful pull over his broken skin did nothing to slow his march towards the biosphere.

Once inside Sebastian allowed himself to fall onto his backside, feeling new aches and pains that could have been washed away by a vita chamber or at the very least a health kit. For now however he made do tying the shredded fabric of his pants around the injury. He'd deal with it better later.

Satisfied he wasn't about to bleed out, Sebastian let his eyes slide shut and quietly waited for the biosphere to take him where he needed to be.

Then after a moment there was another sigh and Sebastian wondered if he'd done something else wrong somehow. "Boyo, you're shaking." Atlas pointed out dryly and Sebastian was shocked he hadn't noticed that sooner. Even more stunned that Atlas was able to see it. At least that was until he took a look at his hands and saw just how violently he was in fact shaking.

It wasn't the fact that he was trembling that surprised Sebastian, given all that had happened he would have thought it strange if he wasn't at least a little rattled. He just had not expected the effect to be so outwardly obvious.

Feeling as though he was adding to his own failure, Sebastian tried desperately to force his body back into stillness.

His efforts were in vain and eventually Atlas's voice came back over the radio. "Look, kid. I don't know what that freak Cohen made you do, but I can sure as hell imagine it. Just…" It was strange, hearing Atlas grappling for words. He always knew what to say before.

"….you're all there 'aintcha?"

And reluctantly Sebastian nodded. He was…all here. Just a little shaken.

"Good." Atlas sounded more relieved than Sebastian could bring himself to feel. "Because we still have a job to do. Once this biosphere lands, you'll need to find your way to Wernicke. Man's got the genetic key for Rapture, without it you and I are ghosts."

One last haul. Alright, he could manage that. The biosphere came to a halt, bobbing up out of the water and pulling back the doors to a new area of Rapture. Another place no doubt crawling with splicers.

But it was close to the end now and so Sebastian climbed his way out and made for the first vending machine he could find. He'd patch up and then make his way to Murkoff's current head and finish things. Anything to get out of this city.

Sebastian made the process easier by thinking about what good they could do once the key was in their hands.

He'd go looking for Miss Park and round up all the little sisters, get them to safety. Above this living hell, back out in the fresh air under a blue sky. He'd go looking for Waylon, thinking the man must surely be safe, he'd survived this long after all. And maybe…just maybe he'd go back to Fort Frolic. If his legs could force him to go there and see if even Gluskin could be saved.

But most of all he'd finally repay his debt to Atlas. For all his help, guidance, companionship. He'd finally be able to do something to begin making up for the family he'd failed to save.

"Seems mister Gluskin may have lost his touch." Then there was Wernicke's voice and Sebastian knew he was getting closer.

It was as he jammed his wrench into the next of a final splicer of a wave the Murkoff man had sent his way that Wernicke really began to speak.

"Do you understand what it is you're doing here?" Wernicke asked him bitterly, clearly not expecting an answer. If he knew Sebastian could not speak or simply did not care to hear what he had to say was anyone's guess. "Do you think yourself some savior? Some lone crusader fighting for what is good and righteous? Do you think these monsters you cut down? No, son. Nothing is supernatural, nothing is above common sense and reason – those things, who's blood you just finished wiping off your hands, those are _people_."

Anger.

Sebastian recognized it in himself and in Wernicke's voice. But there was more than that, Wernicke was speaking more and now Sebastian knew why.

He was getting closer.

"Monsters are just flesh and blood, boy. Monsters are things man creates. Not unlike yourself, no?"

In a fit of absolute fury Sebastian threw his wrench at the closest camera that blinked red at him. He would have screamed, roared at the man to be silent but the best he could do was throw his beloved tool and watch it break the camera into a million mechanical bits.

Still Wernicke's voice persisted.

"Such money spent on you. To think, all that time and effort and this is their creation." Wernicke mused aloud. "I do hope they see how little they got for their money."

For a second Sebastian hesitated his shotgun half over his shoulder, pondering what exactly the man was talking about. The time to think was not a luxury he had however. Wernicke was throwing everything he had at Sebastian and that shotgun was in high demand to just keep himself afloat.

His questions got lost in an onslaught of feverish screaming and sprays of blood. Both his and the splicer's.

Sebastian was in the middle of crafting a bomb – not something he'd ever expected to have to do in his lifetime – when Wernicke's voice returned. He attempted to ignore it, looking for the things that Atlas had told him to find to get the device working. But Wernicke's words had changed now; taken on a new tone and suddenly Sebastian was hit with the sensation of knowing it.

He sounded exactly like Gluskin had with his words of monsters and things meant to be. The voice of a man who held a secret and was barely keeping it.

This bomb was the final step. It was the key into Murkoff's upper floors. To Wernicke's own office. He had to give it his full attention and yet Sebastian found himself waning. Attention occasionally shifting back to the voice of the devil he'd been sent to kill.

Lament for the man who lets a devil in his ear.

"You do have the capacity to imagine don't you? Well you might as well try. Try to imagine the immense amount of will power it took to create all of this. Men build a city at the bottom of the sea – a marvel. Another man happens upon it after a plane crashes in just the right place. Now that…why that sounds more like a miracle."

Wernicke's voice lowered across the speakers and Sebastian shivered. "I for one do not believe in miracles."

Sebastian did. He had to. Otherwise there'd be no hope left in him. So he pushed on regardless.

He completed the bomb, set it, cut down the remaining splicers and waited for the almighty boom that would clear the way. It seemed to shake the entire city and Sebastian was terrified that the water might just come pouring in and kill them all.

If it did, that would at least be an end to this horrid affair.

But the walls remained sturdy and Sebastian did not find himself resting at the bottom of the ocean. Not yet at least.

Atlas was the one that spoke to him this time and it was a welcome relief. "Best be heading up to the core." Sebastian could hear it in Atlas's voice; the excitement that meant the end was coming one way or another. "Once you get there, you'll be needing—"

The rest of the guidance never came, a horrible shrieking sound splitting the air. Sebastian tried to cover his ears to block it out, but the unholy sound penetrated his head. It was like the wailing was coming from inside his own brain.

He might have believed that to be the case had Atlas not cursed out loud a moment later.

"Oh Christ, what the hell is it…how is it out?" Atlas panicked and Sebastian felt a jolt of fear rush down his spine. Not unlike the momentary terror that came before facing a big daddy or knowing he was about to wake in a vita chamber again. "Kid, move your ass into gear." Atlas ordered sharply. "You do not want to meet with Wernicke's pet monster."

Atlas was telling him to hurry and Sebastian was trying to oblige, but all the while Wernicke spoke, his words punctuated with the occasional shriek of that creature. Closer every time.

"I can't help but be curios. It is in the nature of the scientific mind to question things and I question you, boy. What is it Atlas has offered you?" Anger this time, sharp and frustrated. Another scream in the distance. "A piece of our plundered city? Power, control, wealth? What motivates a creature such as yourself?"

Sebastian thought the man mad for not guessing the most obvious thing in the world. Atlas had offered him little more than the chance of freedom and a kind voice where he needed it. Sebastian did not know if a man like Wernicke understood the value of friendship.

He made it to central control and thought himself a miracle worker for it. Beaming in equal parts disbelief and pride, Sebastian marched on forward, hoping to end this before anything else could go sideways.

Except, as it always did, things got far worse.

The scream came before the hit did. Sebastian was on his own two feet one moment and then in the next his entire body had curled around something vaguely fist shaped and sharp. It punched the air out of his lungs and for a moment Sebastian thought that was all it had done. Until his body gave a sickening lurch and crack, then he realized the thing had passed straight through his skin, separated muscle and split his bones apart in one swift stroke.

The thing had struck him through the ribs and he now lay stuck on its blackened limb, its arm passing into his chest on one side and tearing out the other – Sebastian's heart in hand.

It squeezed and his heart exploded.

For that split second between life and death Sebastian coughed up a mouthful of blood and caught little more than a glimpse of the thing that had killed him before he even hit the ground. What he saw was a monster unlike the others he'd witnessed before this.

It was pitch black, made from living shadow and that dip in its face that split apart when its shriek rang through Sebastian's head – that must have been a mouth. It was all teeth and darkness inside.

He awoke in the vita chamber, scrabbling for breath and terrified. Jerking his head back and forth Sebastian looked for any sign of the creature and a moment later heard it's telltale shriek. Coming in his direction.

Lurching out of the chamber Sebastian ran.

His feet hit the ground hard and as he tore off in the other direction, he felt something swipe past his head, just nearly missing his neck. It was so _fast_. Fast and stronger than any big daddy he'd ever fought, Sebastian was unprepared for this…this…

Wernicke's pet monster.

A wrong turn taken and Sebastian found himself flung into the air by the creature's clawed hand. His head struck the ceiling with a horrible snap and when he landed again on the ground something in him cracked.

Trying to stand he found the thing that had snapped must have been his spine. Having no choice he laid motionless as the shadow of the creature loomed over him again. It wasted no time separating his head from his shoulders.

The vita-chamber again. This time the monster knew where to find him.

It screaming in rage when Sebastian came stumbling out again. It shrieked at him, furious that he was not staying dead and things quickly spiraled downwards from there. The thing, clever enough to know where Sebastian would eventually return to, waited for him.

Clever enough to know that, but not nearly smart enough to know a lost cause when it found one.

Perhaps if it destroyed the chamber, Sebastian might remain dead once it removed its claws from his skull or when it cut his throat. Perhaps then it would end, but no. The creature was all instinct and rage – it killed him time and time again, but never thought to properly _end_ him.

Somewhere around the seventh time it had stopped his heart in his chest, Sebastian felt himself slipping away. The vita chamber was by no means a perfect fail safe. He had learnt early on that too much too quickly would cause him to begin shutting down.

First mentally, then physically until finally there'd be nothing left of him. Ha…maybe the creature was on to something.

Dizzily he existed the chamber again, having no choice but to do so and the monster was on him again. Sebastian didn't so much as scream this time as its arm like appendages sank into his. Ripping through his skin like paper. He would have screamed if he could, but everything had faded away from him. A far away nightmare he was only witnessing rather than partaking in.

Truly he believed this would continue until he fully shut down, and that'd be that. They'd been _so_ close…

Then, miraculously it stopped. " _Billy_." The creature stopped; form flickering in and out of a solid shape. It took a moment to process the name and then slowly twisted, looking upwards as if to face Wernicke's voice. "Enough my child, step away."

Letting out a low whine, something akin to a chided dog, the creature stayed put for a moment longer. Reluctant to release it's beaten captive. "It is alright Billy, you have done more than enough." Sebastian's hazy mind struggled to put Wernicke's name to that voice. It was so…tender. So void of the cruelty it held when directed at him.

But it was a relief, as the creature slowly slunk away from him. As Sebastian righted himself, blood roaring through his ears. He saw the thing sitting back and staring at him. It curled in on itself like a child and…there, inside of its shadowy mass was a person.

Sebastian hadn't seen them through all the carnage. But he could see them clearly now. Some timid, malnourished looking boy that couldn't have been any older than himself. The boy – Billy he assumed – stared at Sebastian like he was the monster and Sebastian found himself painfully used to seeing that stare directed at himself.

The monster around the young man seemed to melt away with every passing second and Sebastian had the most suicidal urge to reach out to him when he noticed Billy was trembling.

They're still just people.

If I can do just one good thing.  
Kind enough for the both of them.

Each little thought, each quiet hope he held close to his chest echoed through his mind as he stared at Billy. He thought of the little sisters, with their ghostly lifeless eyes and then the girls they could be when shown an ounce of human compassion. He looked at Billy and saw something not unlike them.

Monsters are made by men.

Wernicke's own sentiment rattled around in his head as well and Sebastian steeled himself. Forcing his body back up Sebastian was perfectly aware of Billy's eyes on him as he warily approached the cowering young man.

Then as slowly as he could manage, Sebastian held out his hand and smiled.

But Billy skirted away and Sebastian's heart dropped as the shadow's leapt back up around his body. It was only a moment later and the creature and its human were gone. Leaving Sebastian staring at the place they had been. Little more than a blood stain remained.

His blood if Sebastian were to guess.

"I would explain to you the science that renders your attempts to save that boy impossible, but that would be like playing Mozart for a tree frog." Sebastian's expression twisted into a scowl as he turned his own gaze upwards. He wanted to snarl and show nothing but disdain…but he was more confused than angry now.

Why call off his monster when it clearly had Sebastian beat?

With a heavy sigh, Wernicke provided an answer, albeit not one Sebastian immediately understood. "I believe I once told you the solution to a mystery…I should have erased yours sooner. But now I find myself with answers and they tie my hands. Men often wish they had not sought the answers they do – frequently we regret the things we uncover, but now I see you. Flesh-to-flesh and blood-to-blood, I know I cannot raise my hand against you anymore than I can allow Billy to destroy you."

His head was hurting. Sebastian tried to focus, tried to listen to the weariness of the old man's words. It felt important. Like there was something there he ought to already understand but just couldn't.

"But child, know this; you will be Murkoff's greatest success and my own greatest failure."

That should not hurt. It made no sense to hurt as badly as it did. Sebastian struggled, trying to right his own head. Perhaps all those deaths had knocked something loose because suddenly the whole world seemed far away. Seemed surreal.

Only one thing remained clear, Atlas needed him.

"Does your master hear me I wonder?" There was an edge to Wernicke's voice that Sebastian had never heard before. His earlier anger paled to this, this gut wrenching fury that nearly felt like a physical force through the speakers. "Well Atlas!" He shouted, as though the man would respond. "Do you hear me you traitorous mutt? You can kill me but you'll never be able to best Murkoff. This city will not be yours no matter how many underhanded cards you play. For what you've done I'll see you suffer even in my own death."

Then suddenly it was quiet. Sebastian was still, some small part of him afraid of Wernicke's unbridled fury. But when the man spoke again, it was soft. Resigned.

"Come now, my child. There is one final thing we have to discuss."

Sebastian was welcomed into Wernicke's office and he desperately wanted to turn and run from it. But still his legs carried him inwards. He had one last job to do after all.

…  
…

What he expected to find was Wernicke awaiting him. Maybe with a trap, maybe with one final card to play. What he found instead was the answer Wernicke had uncovered for him.

He found it painted across the wall. Big red letters with a familiar phrase.

' _Would You Kindly'_

It was as though every nerve in his body had turned to ice. Numb, heavy, unfeeling. He stared at the wall, the papers and photos patched together to create a bombardment of evidence.

Evidence of…of _what_?

What was this?

Nervously Sebastian stepped forward, looking down at the things left for him. Some audio logs and even a few things to help him heal up. Including a substantial amount of money bizarrely enough. He was afraid, a coward and he knew it. Sebastian did not touch the audio logs, not first anyway.

Instead he took his time collecting the supplies, wishing he could replenish his EVE or find some more ammunition. Occasionally he'd cast an anxious glance at the horrible display sprawled out in front of him. Before long he'd gathered all he could and there was nothing left to distract him from the laid left out before him.

With a shuddering breath Sebastian set the first audio log to play while staring up at the wall. There were faces there, his own among them. He saw Wernicke, an old photo of the smuggler Blaire, a picture of a grinning man in a lab coat that was painfully familiar to him and Lisa Park's face as well. There were a few that Sebastian did not recognize, one he was only newly acquainted with sat next to his own picture. Billy. Next to the pair of them was another man, dark hair and angry eyes but not a face he recognized.

Just a dull sense of familiarity.

Sebastian was staring at the man in the coat when the audio log played and immediately a name fit to the face. "Alright," A cheerful voice chimed through the audio log. One he'd heard on the odd occasion throughout Rapture. "How ya doing today, buddy?" Asked Dr. Trager – voice all smiles.

There was a moment of stony silence and the doctor let out a dramatic sign. "Gunna be one of those days is it, eh? Well, lets take a break huh, buddy? No tests today, instead lets go for a stroll – I'll even give you a pet puppy if you're a super good boy."

"No tests?" That was a boy's voice. Low, rough and a touch hostile. "You promise?"

"Cross my heart, boyo!" Trager chimed and part of Sebastian screamed in his head. That's a lie he thought, he was lying. "It bothers me how much time you've been spending with Martin. You're my good boy aren't ya, buddy? You should spend more time with lil' ol me."

"So." Trager snapped his fingers and Sebastian flinched at the sharpness of the sound even through a recording. "Whaddya say, Riley? Want to try this thing again?"

It sounded as though the unknown boy was about to agree but then there was the sound of a door swinging open and the attention shifted. "Ah, look at that. All done and dusted for the day?"

There was sobbing. Hysterical and inconsolable. The echo of a chair crashing and little feet rushing to the sound of the crying. "Brother?" The boy's voice spoke frantically. "Little brother, what's wrong, what did they make you do?"

"Hey now, buddy that's not nice." Trager complained but went ignored.

A new boy's voice, younger, strained with tears. "P-Puppy…they…puppy. Neck…it's neck was so fragile I…I didn't want to I swear I didn't I…" The words broke apart into heart wrenching sobs and there was a snarl from the older boy.

"You fuckers!" Everything went to hell.

Sebastian heard things being broken, more screaming from a child and he even caught the doctor's manic laughter at times. The audio cut out sometime during the carnage.

As he listened to the audio log Sebastian ran his fingers along the string attached to Trager's smiling face across to Lisa. Trager was connected to many faces, but both Lisa and the doctor shared one in common.

The smuggler.

He started up the second audio log and was greeted by Trager's voice again. Less manic and more tired now, although it never lost its amused edge. "Wow, those lil' brats certainly do grow fast, don't they? The second subject is nearly two years old today and he possesses the body of a fit twenty one year old. Not just a fit young man at that, he's ridiculously muscular. The third one, ehh, less impressive but he's growing just as fast. I'd wager they'll both be done growing once they hit their mid to late twenties. "

Trager rattled of facts about subjects gleefully. He didn't even bother being formal about it until about half way through. "Blaire is paying out the ass for these kids, says he wants them faster than I can grow 'em. The results are impressive enough, but nothing pleases that prickly client. Well nothing but me. But then again…Murkoff is placing a high bid of their own. Subject one got shipped off little over a month ago, heard Wernicke was horrified, heh serves the old coot right – both remaining subjects have been inconsolable since then. Which is good for Subject two, he is supposed to exhibit protective behavior towards anything perceived as family – it's one of his only perfect successes."

A pause and Trager's voice dropped into a frustrated snarl. "But the second subject is tricky. His programed voice triggers aren't responding correctly. Subject three responds to WYK perfectly, as well as a number of other personalized commands from the client. But two? Oh he's a nasty one, bites and snaps at anything. He's salvageable for the big brother program but…well that's about all."

A quiet chuckle. "Jeremy will get his monster, but not this one. I won't be sending subject two off to Blaire. He's faulty… _and_ my favourite."

The smirk in Trager's words at the end of the recording had Sebastian shuddering in disgust. Wernicke's words returned to him with new meaning. 

Monsters are the creations of men.

…

…

Wernicke was a sickly man. The chair he sat in supported every aspect of his existence.

It offered him air where his damaged lungs could no longer draw in any of their own. Kept his blood clean and fresh – with the blood of others.

He was a sickly man, but he was by no means a _weak_ man and as Sebastian approached the office, he could feel that strength.

It was used to scorn him. This man who was so frail that merely being left to try surviving with his own body and no other support would spell death for him, still somehow held himself taller than Sebastian.

Because he was a free man. Free to wonder about the things he had. Free to peruse the dreams he had. To create the monsters he did. Every atrocity his own, a choice he'd made.

A freedom he could exploit.

He used this freedom now, in the face of a man who could not. Sebastian could not even speak the words to ask why he had laid out those papers for him. Set out those truths for him to find.

Desperately Sebastian wished Wernicke would tell him is was a lie, that things were how he'd thought they'd been up until this point.

Instead the sickly man turned away from his desk, looking at Sebastian as he stood silently outside of the glass wall. He studied the creature in front of him with something that could not be considered pity in any compassionate sense.

If he pitied Sebastian it was the pity one might offer a particularly unsightly creature as it lay writhing its disgusting, rotting body on the floor moments before its death.

And then he spoke and it was with a level tone he picked apart Sebastian's only sense of reality. "You've come all this way. Done so much, and for what? To be just one of three monsters used to fight over a lost city?"

With a callous smile Wernicke's chair crept closer to the glass. "You believe you have memories. Amazing that they were kind enough to give you sweet memories, of family, friends – a life you never did have. Never can have, you were not created to have a life or mind unless activated by a simple phrase, spoken by their kindly master."

The door slid open and Sebastian flinched at the sound. _No_ , he thought pathetically, _don't let me in._

"Come in."

His legs carried him automatically forward, approaching the open doorway with wrench in hand but—

"Stop." Wernicke uttered and then with a twist of his lips added. "Would you kindly?"

Sebastian forgot how to walk. He stilled and remained unmoving, waiting for the words that might free his legs and teach him once again how to walk.

"You see, my child there's nothing you can do or have ever done that can be considered the actions of a human. You were just one of many mistakes Murkoff and this city made. Billy, the kind-hearted soul he is, means no harm to anyone. I am sure you are much the same. Monsters with morality – a novelty to be sure – but ultimately just another cruelty you were dealt."

"Would you kindly," Wernicke hummed thoughtfully and this time when his eyes rest on Sebastian they were full of that secret. The one he'd seen in Gluskin's face and heard towards the end.

The secret he should have known but desperately tried to ignore. "Powerful phrase." He uttered and Sebastian would have begged him in that moment to say no more. To protect the fragile lie just a little longer, the one good thing he still had. " _Familiar_ phrase?"

" _ **Would you kindly**_ _just let me know if you're alright?"_

" _Now buck up, be a man and_ _ **would you kindly**_ _hit that bitch with that wrench!"_

 _I know it's a lot to ask…but_ _ **would you kindly**_ _help me?"_

" _ **Would you kindly**_ _stop freaking out and listen to me for one bleeding second!"_

" _then_ _ **would you kindly**_ _hightail it out of th—"_

" _Never mind._ _ **Would you kindly leg**_ _it over to the 'sphere and get on down to Hephaestus?"_

" _Would you kindly, would you kindly, would you kindly…"  
_

" **Would you kindly** go to Wernicke's office and kill the son of a bitch?"

Wernicke looked him over once and then to drive the point home, he began to speak again. "Sit, would you kindly? Stand, would you kindly? Run! Stop! Turn." Sebastian obeyed until he came to once again stand in front of Wernicke and never before had he been so afraid. This man – who could barely lift his own hand should he desire to – had Sebastian more afraid than any splicer or big daddy.

Because what Wernicke held in front of him was truth. Painful, sharp and merciless.

"You see Murkoff always dabbled in the creation of monsters. Abominations. Imagine their delight had you been given to them instead of Blaire." Wernicke explained quietly. "But we men have no power over the mad ones, those too far gone to reason. The outside world must not know of our atrocities, and so it must die with us."

Then the man was watching Sebastian again, if he saw the wretched expression on his face, the tears he wanted to shed, the old man barely batted en eyelid. "Billy will not allow me to rest, he believes me his father and…as painful as it may be to know I am the father of monsters, it also stands true for the remaining two of you. He will not kill me himself, as he loves his father dearly…but you my boy. I'm afraid you have no such restrictions."

 _No_ , the word almost came out. It was so close to being said that Sebastian swore for a moment that even his burning throat and teary eyes would not stop it from coming out. No, he would have begged it, screamed it. Anything to stop Wernicke from making him do what he knew must come next.

The old man smiled, for just a moment. It was a sad sort of smile and Sebastian knew it would be the last he ever saw. "We all must die here and you will be the one to end it, my child. Starting with me."

Then quietly, like a promise being passed between them. "Would you kindly, my boy?"

There was no blood this time. No screaming or pull of a wrench. Instead Sebastian found his body moving around to Wernicke's side and unplugging the various devices that kept his heart beating.

Wernicke watched him, silent and accepting of the death that came. It was cruel of him to do this, to allow this boy to fall victim to the words he was built to obey. But death had been taken from Wernicke for too long, Billy had been too protective of him and now it was ending.

What he had not expected of the monster was the small show of compassion he was able to muster. '

Part of Wernicke saw this to be a failing of the boy's programing as Sebastian gently laid his hand over top his own. But slowly he relaxed into that small contact, thinking for just a moment that this was truly his boy – a creation he'd had almost no part in and wished had never come about – but still his.

Atlas be damned, Trager and Blaire be damned. They might have created this monster – but it shared blood with Wernicke and his other monsters. They were his as much as they were Rapture's mistake.

However this one held his hand as he passed into oblivion and for just a moment Wernicke felt regret for what he had done to these monsters.

But only for a moment.

…  
…

"Hurry, grab Wernicke's genetic key! Now would you kindly put it in that goddamn machine!"

This time he heard it. Those words being spoken again, winding their way around his mind. But Sebastian couldn't refuse regardless.

Plucking the key to Rapture off the body before it even had the chance to cool, Sebastian dutifully took it towards the machine that Wernicke had set off in some vain attempt to bring the city down around them.

The outside world must not know they exist.

Even as the man's dying wish echoed in Sebastian's head he found his hands setting the golden key into the slot of the machine. Overriding the self-destruct sequence and destroying what small chance there was that this could all end with them buried at sea.

The machine groaned as if in complaint, desperate to keep on its set path despite being instructed to do just the opposite. The pressure released with a hiss and Sebastian heard a long sigh of relief from his radio. Atlas sounded so pleased with what he'd done.

As the machine began to clunk and buzz, shutting down slowly but surely, Atlas spoke and an icy feeling washed over Sebastian's body. " _Nice work, boyo_." The words familiar but the tonw so unlike Atlas. It sounded distorted, like his voice was caught between two separate men, one that was a friend and another that Sebastian had heard somewhere else. In the audio logs he picked up…

More laughter, colder, deeper and gradually with each inward drag of breath, Atlas disappeared.

The man that spoke in his place was a stranger to Sebastian.

"Ahh, I suppose it's time to end this little masquerade. No point keeping up this Atlas performance with Wernicke getting cold in the other room. It was fun while it lasted, kid. A man in my line of work has to take on a variety of aliases. Hell, once I was even working under Murkoff. Can you imagine that?"

No he couldn't. Sebastian seemed incapable of imagining anything currently. He was barely able to warp his mind around the new reality he'd been given, let alone thinking about other lies.

"But you've been a sport, so I guess I can give you a little honesty. The name's Jeremy Blaire." The stranger purred over the radio. "I gotta say, I've had a lot of business partners in my life, but you...'" Trailing off Blaire scoffed, an unpleasant sound over the radio. "You are something else."

The world was still shaking under Sebastian's feet and a glance up he saw the banner that had once read Murkoff had changed. It was testament to the man's ego that he already had his name scrawled over Wernicke's place.

Sebastian, for all his naivety, did not think of himself as a complete idiot. His mind quickly ran over all the recordings he'd collected. Blaire's death had been grossly exaggerated apparently, and now he'd finally got his upper hand on Murkoff and he'd used Sebastian to do it.

He'd _created_ Sebastian.

Looking around Sebastian found himself in a situation that rapidly slipped from bad to worse with every passing second. The gate had slid shut behind him, locking him into a dead end. Trapped and with little else besides the American's voice – his real voice this time perhaps – Sebastian had little choice but to listen in silence.

"Oh." Blaire paused, breaking away from something he'd been saying about cocker spaniels as a thought occurred to him. "Mighty quiet down there aren't you? You were such a chatter when you first showed up. You would not believe the headache." Blaire groused but despite his complaining the edge of amusement never strayed far from his voice. Using each to drive home just how outclassed Sebastian had truly been all this time.

"Not ringing any bells? Well how about this – would you kindly remember how ridiculously stupid you are?" Sebastian's mind began to realign itself accordingly. He could feel his head shifting this time, adjusting to the new order he'd been given. Lifting a bar he hadn't realised even existed till Blaire saw fit to tell him.

Stumbling back the blonde reached out to try and steady himself against the wall but ended up collapsing to his knees as the flood of information rushed straight back into his head.

He'd come up in the bathysphere…the same one he'd woken up only hours earlier than he thought. What he hadn't remembered was the first time he'd seen Rapture. He'd had his voice then and there'd been someone there sent by _Atlas_ to help him. Jonny was it? The body he'd passed without too much thought back in the beginning, he'd seen that man alive and watched him die. All that forgotten because Blaire decided he didn't like how the story was going.

"That's not going to do." Sebastian had been confused at the time as to why Atlas suddenly sounded so different. "Gotta do something about that damn voice…ah, that's right. _No telling stories outside of class_." Just like that Sebastian lost the ability to talk, forgotten he'd even been able to in the first place.

Just because Jeremy Blaire had said a few words.

"Got all kinds of phrases and buttons programed into you, kid. Trager is a very thorough bastard when motivated correctly." Blaire mused sounding far too pleased with himself. "Plenty of strings I haven't even tried pulling yet. I'm rather looking forward to that, so stay put won't you? Not like there's anywhere you could go even if you tried."

No choice but to wait. No choice…that was rapidly becoming an all-encompassing aspect of his life.

"Rapture belongs to me now. And that, _boyo_ , includes you."

Slumping boneless against the wall he'd fallen against, Sebastian did wait. Staring blankly into empty space, unable to muster the strength to even count the cracks in the wall he stared at. He had been sapped of all his EVE just getting to Wernicke's office and besides his wrench, everything else practically had no ammunition left.

Atlas, or rather Blaire, had instructed him to use everything he could. Throw it all in for one final hurdle to get to Murkoff's final defense. At the time it seemed rational, now Sebastian reviewed those instructions with a muted sense of respect. They weren't reasonable so much as they were cunning.

Accounting for everything. Blaire had moved all the pieces on the board into checkmate while Sebastian hadn't even known they'd been playing.

Around his limp form Rapture was beginning to settle back down. Far away from him were the sounds of change. Bullets being fired, alarms going off and what he guessed were splicer's dying screams. He'd heard enough to think himself something of an expert on the subject.

Sounded like Blaire was plowing people down. Making a point, or maybe he was just taking his new power for a joy ride. Instilling himself as the new lord and master of their underwater grave.

He was so distant from his own mind that Sebastian nearly missed the sight of a pair of dirty bare feet shuffling into his line of view. Confused Sebastian gradually forced his head up to look and saw a tiny hand sticking through the bars that caged him in.

"Big brother sent me." The little sister whispered, voice that unnatural trill but this time Sebastian did not recoil from it. Instead he leant into the unnatural sound of her voice, feeling more kinship with the little sisters than he had before entering Wernicke's office. Monsters might as well stick with other monsters.

The child seemed discouraged and confused by Sebastian's stillness. She looked over him, looking for what could be wrong. Sebastian still had no words at his disposal. Distantly he remembered the sound of his own voice. It wasn't the worst voice…kind, gentle – not at all how he thought a thing like himself ought to sound. Regardless he couldn't tell her how everything felt like it had just stopped. There wasn't anything left worth a damn. Every lie he'd taken comfort in had fallen apart around him and now Sebastian was left waiting for his 'kindly master' to waltz in and put a bullet through his eyes.

If he decided to be kind enough to kill him cleanly. Least he could do after he practically gift-wrapped the city to him with bloody hands.

The young girl didn't know this but whatever she saw was clearly not enough to convince her to leave him. "Come on, come quickly." She urged, tugging at his arm. "Follow me, I know the way. Big brother wants you." Then there was more noise, closer this time and her tugging became more urgent. "Come with me! _Please_." In a desperate effort to get him moving, the little sister pressed an EVE hypo through the bars, pleading with him to use it with her eyes alone.

He would have been content to wait, would have told the child as much but…Sebastian made the mistake of looking up at her wide, terrified eyes. What sort of a person was he if he could look at this scared child, still desperate to help a freak like him, and leave her stranded?

It took a colossal amount of effort to force himself up. To remember that he could move at all, he wasn't actually forced to stay and wait for the death he was sure was coming his way.

After all – Blaire hadn't said the magic words.

Now that he was on his feet, Sebastian looked at the gate that had trapped him in, acutely aware of the little sister watching him with a hopeful smile. After a moment of thought Sebastian's hand exploded back into light, the EVE hypo in his other hand, already jammed into his wrist. It felt a little different to normal, a little stronger maybe. Curious he glanced at the little sister, her smile impish. Okay…so the little sisters had a few tricks left up their sleeves. Good to know.

With a quick motion for her to move a safe distance back, Sebastian reached back towards the machine he'd played a part in overriding. Ripping its main console up out of the ground. It was no easy task, separating the massive weight from the bulk of its craft, but Sebastian pulled out a substantial chunk of the thing. A shiver of violent delight at seeing it ruined shooting through him. That was encouragement enough, one more quick look to make sure the sister was at a safe distance and he threw the enormous mass.

The gates gave away with a tremendous bang, parts of the metal flying all different directions. Sebastian knew that anyone on the same floor as them – hell maybe even a few bellow – would have heard it. Wary of any voice that might come from his radio, Sebastian rushed through the ruins of the gate. Stopping for only a moment to spot where the sister was huddled a safe distance away from the carnage.

A quick gesture from him and the little sister came out of her hiding place, rushing to his side, arms outstretched expectantly. It was a strange sight, seeing a little sister reaching out for him rather than recoiling. Sebastian wasted no time scooping her up under one arm and bolting.

Glancing off to the side Sebastian nearly got taken off guard by a security bot. Lightening shot through his arms, sparking out past his fingers and blasting in the direction of the drone. It gave a squeal before crashing to the ground and the little sister curled tighter into Sebastian's chest, letting out a scream of her own. "Kill them big brother!" She shrieked as her little fingers buried themselves into Sebastian's arm. "Unzip 'im! _Unzip 'im_!"

Encouragement from a child was one thing, the sheer abhorrence with which a little sister called for the death of enemies…well that was something else entirely.

Regardless Sebastian did not pause, instead his plasmid switched out, the swarm released out into the air and distantly there were screams as his little pets began to do their job. It was a horrible way to die, but with the child in his arms and a new found anger rushing through his veins – Sebastian only mustered up the faintest shred of pity for them.

"Over there!" The sister urged him, pointing towards an open vent in the wall. Large enough for him as well as her to crawl through rather than the vents the little sisters normally used.

Feet pounding against the ground, Sebastian raced for the hole the little sister had directed him to. In his panic the first instinct he had was to drop down low and slide right in. Would have were it not for the girl he held to his chest. Instead he forced himself to calm enough to be rational and crouched down, letting her scramble out of his arms and into the safety of the vent while he guarded the opening.

He was just about to follow after her when. "The hell is this?" His body froze up, recognizing that angry voice as Blaire's. Panicked he glanced back, couldn't see the man yet but he could imagine him finding Sebastian not where he'd been told to stay and being furious.

Afraid that he'd lose whatever amount of free will he had if the man's voice sounded out again with those three little words, Sebastian closed his hands over his ears and followed the girl into the safe darkness of the vent.

She was speaking to him. He didn't hear a word of it, not over the chant in his head and the hands clasped over his ears. But he did feel her hands on his arm, tugging him gently forward, leading him through he darkness while he could not hear her.

Sebastian took the risk of easing one hand off his ear to hear her words, for just a second. "…safe now. Clear as rainbows…"

" _Boy_." Blaire's voice chased him down the vent, resting heavily in Sebastian's very bones. "When I find you…"

"Quiet time now." The little sister hissed and her tiny hands reached up to cup Sebastian's ears. The glow of her yellow eyes illuminating the small space for just a moment as she stared sternly at the blonde's face. He could see her mouth moving, but no longer could he make out the words.

Good, that silence was safety.

Unfortunately it was also ignorance. Sebastian saw the little sister drop out of view a moment later and only had a second to wonder what had happened before the floor gave out under him and he went plummeting downwards with a scream. When Sebastian hit the ground, he did so with all the grace of a sack of potatoes.

Head bouncing off the hard ground with a familiar snap. The sound was one he accepted as a near killing blow and so it was a relief when everything turned dark and Sebastian – having died so many times before – recognized it as a black out. Not death.

Small mercies.

"Big brother!" Distantly the little sister's voice was ringing out, getting lost and distorted as his damaged body moved towards oblivion. "I brought Seb. I brought him. Big brother, help me!"

Sebastian watched through barely opened eyes as a set of boots came into view. Two pairs of feet, one rushed towards him and he saw knees hitting the ground a small distance away from his body while the second person approached more slowly.

"Sebastian…" It was difficult to hear anything clearly now. Beyond the roaring in his head he could just pick out someone's voice calling to him, thick with concern. "Come on, Seb, answer me…"

The second person came to a stop a small distance away from the person talking to Sebastian and he caught the smell of smoke. Then…

"Wow, looks like the laddie took one hell of a beatin'. Not looking too hot."

An accent.

 _No. Not real._ Those were Sebastian's last coherent thoughts before the darkness swallowed him up.


	4. The realisation (A shitpost)

The realization. (A shitpost)

"Hey." Sebastian glanced up from his cup of tea. Jeremy was staring. Not at anything in particular, in fact it seemed like he'd just stopped mid movement and stared staring into space. The only thing in front of him was a blank white wall and Sebastian had to wonder what exactly he was doing.

He waited, expecting Jeremy to continue, something about his tone making Sebastian a little unsettled. That was very abrupt of him. But Jeremy did not continue for quite some time so slowly Sebastian lowered his cup. "Yes?" He prompted with a puzzled frown.

Then suddenly Jeremy moved, hands slamming down on the table right in front of Sebastian with such speed and violence that the blond man jumped with a shout of alarm. Spilling his tea. Jeremy stared at Sebastian, eyes wide as though he had somehow just uncovered the secret of the universe and Sebastian had to wonder if he'd somehow found a way to get his hands on some drugs. He certainly had a ready supply of them back in the day.

"I just realised something." Jeremy said seriously, deadly serious. Too serious. What the hell? "We are fucked up." He concluded and Sebastian just kinda looked at him like….well yes?

Clearly?

"As in, _really_ fucked up." He stressed, not clocking Sebastian's stare at all. "Like…is this healthy? This isn't healthy. I've killed half the people I ever employed-"

"You most certainly did not."

"—and you're like a freak of nature that's only half there in the head, and the other half wants to stab me to death every other hour."

"Jeremy have you been drinking?"

"No, no, yes all morning, no, hear me out here. This whole thing is crazy unhealthy isn't it? Like I'm clearly manipulating you, you're blackmailing me – we're all fucking the Parks over with their generosity and shit and don't even get me started on the emotional baggage going on here. But somehow, _somehow,_ for some unholy reason we are currently living together drinking tea and shit." Jeremy continued, beginning to make some bizarre hand gestures, looking more and more befuddled with every word.

"Are you done yet?" Sebastian asked flatly.

"Does this look like the face of a man who is done to you?" Unfortunately… "And can we just touch on all the different levels of fucked up Stockholm Syndrome is? Oh yes, this relationship is definitely the pinnacle of balanced. Not even a tiny bit abusive, not at all."

Sebastian was getting a headache, pinching the bridge of his nose didn't help the problem. "I'm starting to feel the abuse now." He muttered grimly but Jeremy only slammed his hands back down on the table, shouting. If he wasn't drunk or high Sebastian hoped that he was, at least then there would be some excuse for this.

"How the _fuck_ does this relationship function?"

"It doesn't!" Sebastian snapped back angrily.

"Then why the fuck are we still here, why do I still want to drink your shitty coffee and look at your stupid face!?"

"Why are you asking me? I don't understand this shit either, Jeremy!" 

" _FUCK_!"

(Malice apologizes for this)

Lost some progress here

with Sinclair's burns,

Sorry about that.


	5. OutShock3

Rapture was changing.

Right down to the way the air tasted. It still reeked of blood, bad choices and imperialism, but there was a shift in its wretched stench. A simple changing of evils if they were to boil it down to its simplest form.

The splicers were changing too, minds gradually being rewritten, a new master handed the reigns. Before long they'd have new focuses and Miles was not waiting around to see if Blaire decided to make them that particular focus. He'd been looking for them now.

"He's out cold, Riles." Miles told his friend bluntly. "And he'll be a whole lot worse for wear if we don't haul ass back to Lisa's safe house."

Riley didn't respond immediately and Miles felt a small swell of frustration. He did not want to rush Riley, not after all this time, but if they didn't move they were about to spend their family reunion behind the pearly gates.

"Help me." Riley muttered finally, one arm scooping under his brother's limp shoulders to begin pulling him up. Strength he had in spades, but he was down one arm and so he needed help getting Sebastian up. Slinging his shotgun over his shoulder Miles joined Riley in pulling the blonde's lifeless body up off the ground. Were it not for the fact Miles knew this kid was made to take a beating he might have thought he really was dead.

Oh but those Murkoff boys – took more than a fall from a vent to do them in.

Idly Miles looked over at Riley's shoulder, the one that was little more than a stump at the moment and wondered just how many limbs had to be removed before he'd stop functioning. If that crackpot Trager had an honest bone in his body, the answer was all of them and then a head.

Carefully as he could manage while still rushing Miles hoisted Sebastian up onto his back, fully aware of Riley's scrutiny. He tried not to take it personally, if it were his brat of a brother they were collecting after two years apart, he'd be a little cagey as well.

However Riley didn't say a word, trusting Miles not to drop Sebastian on his head, and instead crouched down and offered his hand out to the little sister they'd sent to collect the kid. The pose a near perfect imitation of the way a big daddy would extend his hand to the girls. Miles tried not to shudder when she rushed into Riley's chest with a gleeful squeal of 'big brother'. Similarly he tried not to cringe when Riley wrapped his arm around her, gingerly picking her up off the ground and seating the young girl in the crook of his arm with a low murmured sound that was not quite human.

The low rumbling sound came somewhere from deep inside of the man's ribcage and reverberated through the very walls around them. The sound, while chilling to Miles, seemed to sooth the little sister who let out a happy hum of her own and curled into Riley. Looking about ready to fall asleep. Christ, Miles wished he could feel that safe for even a second in this hellhole.

"Wish ya wouldn't do that." Miles groused, not bothering to hide his aversion to the noise Riley made.

The raven-haired man cast one scathing look over in Miles's direction. "Just focus on my brother." He huffed, attention being split between concern for Sebastian and caring for the girl in his arms. It was part of his programing they both understood that, and Miles knew that it was difficult for him to think of anything except that sister, despite wanting nothing more than to be fawning over the brother that had just been returned to them.

Choosing to say nothing else about that horrendous sound or the implications of Riley's programing, the pair set off for Park's hide out again. If Murkoff hadn't found it yet in all those months of searching, Blaire sure as hell wasn't going to find it now.

"The kid is nothing but god damn skin and bones here, Riles." Miles complained after a while, feeling Sebastian was far too light to be the person he'd seen about Arcadia. The blonde had been some sort of killing machine from what he'd heard, what was this slip of a boy doing in the place of the beast he'd expected to find?

In response Riley let out a soft growl and then immediately hushed himself when the little sister whined in distress. No sounds of agitation, or she'd think they were in danger. "Not that I don't get it. Living on garbage candy bares and booze ain't going to do wonders for the body." Miles added with a sympathetic scoff. "But still, damn."

"Upshur I swear…" Riley began and Miles only laughed.

"I hear ya, boyo, I hear ya. No bullying the kid until he's conscious." Perhaps Riley would have been angrier if he believed Miles was saying any of this for any other reason besides trying to make him feel better. The distraction didn't quite work, but he appreciated the effort all the same.

The rest of the trip was made in silence. Occasionally there'd be a sound of a splicer scurrying too close for comfort and each man would stop, listen and wait. Both carrying precious cargo they couldn't afford any confrontations. Thankfully the further they got from Murkoff's – now Blaire's – head office, the further they got from the chaos.

Before long they were approaching the undercity passageways the Park's had used to escape Murkoff and Blaire's watchful eyes. Getting inside was easy once they knew the way and had Lisa's blessing, but Miles still wondered if today would be one of those times where Lisa demanded a password, just to see him squirm.

Unlikely given the current situation.

As expected they were allowed in without a fuss and once Miles found himself back inside of the Park's makeshift home he was able to take a deep breath again. The moment they stepped inside, Lisa was on them.

"Is she alright?" Was her first question, directed at Riley as she hurried over to them, checking that the little sister was safe. In response Riley only offered up a nod and allowed Lisa to get a close look at the sleeping child. It had taken some time for him to be so open to allowing others to approach him while he was in possession of a little sister. Even now Miles saw him muscles bunching up, tense under his calm exterior. Old habits and all that.

Next she turned on Miles, catching sight of Sebastian slumped against his back, starting to drool on his shoulder no doubt and her sharp gaze softened. "Oh child…" Lisa murmured and approached Miles, a gentle hand reached out to brush against the unconscious blonde's cheek. "Quickly, bring him inside. Lets see if we cannot undo what Trager has done to him."

Miles followed obediently as Lisa took him through the home, passing cured little sisters and those still under the influence of Murkoff's control alike. The girls seemed fascinated with the person Miles had brought home and while they'd always been weary of him, they approached freely now. Curiously staring at the unconscious body laid atop his shoulders.

"It's him." One cured sister whispered excitedly. "The one that saved me."

The girl she'd whispered to still had a set of glowing eyes on her, but smiled with the cured girl regardless. Giving her own hushed word of recognition. "Big brother says he's just like him. I didn't know we had another brother."

Excitedly the girls chatted among themselves and Miles again wondered how they mingled so easily. Cured or not, the girls never shied away from one another. Just as close as they had been when they were all out collecting ADAM from angels. Those that were afraid of humans regardless of their good intent would listen to Riley and those that had been saved would listen to Lisa.

What was amusing was that all sisters, regardless of their current state of being, would listen to Waylon.

"Hey Way-way." Miles greeted as they stepped into what had been serving as a spare room for those past few months. Kept vacant in expectation that they'd one day need it for this exact reason.

Waylon had been sitting on the bed, fiddling with something that Miles didn't even want to try and understand. Lisa was a genius and unfortunately so was her husband. If it were not for the fact he loved them to bits, he might have tired of them running mental circles around them. Waylon never meant to do so, he just got so excited about his gizmos and whatsits, but Lisa…oh Lisa delighted in confusing him.

Jerking up in alarm Waylon took one look at Miles, some greeting forming on his lips and dying there as his eyes immediately narrowed in on Sebastian.

"Wait that's…!" Suddenly he was up off the bed, rushing over to Miles and their unconscious guest. "Huh…" He breathed in shock before his expression devolved into a smile. "…well I'll be."

"What is it, honey?" Lisa asked curiously, but her eyes stayed on the bed she was now setting up. Miles didn't want to know how she planned to take the things that had been programed into the kid's skull out. His imagination was more than gory enough and if he found out she actually had to open up Sebastian's skull to do it…he was going to be sick.

"I met this guy." Waylon explained and Lisa cast him a puzzled look.

"The one at Fort Frolic?"

"That's the one!" Waylon smiled brightly, looking relieved to see one of the only people that had been kind to him still alive. If just a little worse for wear. "But…so this is Sebastian? I never would have guessed! He doesn't look like his brother at all."

"Yeah, from what I hear the family tree is a little bit…" Miles struggled for any word other than fucked and eventually settled on. "Unique."

Waylon tossed him a scolding look but didn't say anything else on the matter and instead turned to help his wife set up what would be their workstation. "Think you can do it?" Waylon was asking Lisa under his breath while pulling out something that Miles guessed would be used to monitor Sebastian's condition. "We're still trying to undo Riley's programing…"

"They're not the same." Lisa muttered not irritated with her husband, but clearly worried about the effort they were about to undertake. "You're comparing heart surgery to plasmid construction – very different processes. Equally complicated. Miles, would you set Sebastian down on the bed please?"

And both way above Miles's level of education he thought dryly, shifting Sebastian slightly on his shoulders before gently laying him out of the bed. It was nothing impressive, likely riddled with the beginnings of mold and full of dust, but it was probably the softest thing Sebastian had laid on since he arrived.

"It's going to take some time…but at the very least we can undo some of the mental conditioning. The WYK command first and foremost." Lisa said, voice tight with disgust at the mere thought of the conditioning. Miles knew it wasn't just revulsion in her voice, but guilt. This must have been a way to repent, to make up for the abhorrent things she'd done.

"And the rest?"

Lisa hesitated before sighing heavily.

"We can try."

…  
…

There were lights overhead. Sebastian cringed as the first thing he saw was a set of four glaring light bulbs hanging over his head.

Beyond his irritation at the bright lights, Sebastian slowly came to the understanding he was in fact awake. Not dead just yet.

Groaning Sebastian tried to move, to turn on his side so that he could get up. If he was still alive that meant there was still the chance that he was in danger and so he had to start moving. But it was difficult to so much as see straight with the ringing in his ears and the pounding of his own heart beat throbbing in his head.

"Rough morning?"

Jumping at the sound of someone else's voice Sebastian reached for where his wrench should have been strapped to his back and found nothing. Next he tried to use a plasmid only for his veins to burn, not even able to run on fumes he was so empty of EVE. Sebastian had nothing.

"Easy, easy…hey it's okay." The voice continued as Sebastian tried to make sense of his world. It took a moment or two but gradually he recognized that voice. Someone he'd met before. Blearily the blonde looked up and was met with Waylon's gently smiling face. "There you are. Welcome back, Sebastian."

All the fight drained from his body. In an instant he was lying flat and limp against the bed again. Feeling a wave of relief roll over him. He was safe, at least as safe as anyone could be in Rapture.

"Just take it slow, yeah?" Waylon encouraged and Sebastian was just grateful for the kind voice. "You were in pretty bad shape when you came in, Lisa patched you up as best she could but…well there's some things that take more time than we have."

Lisa…he remembered that name. Sebastian's eyebrows furrowed together as he sat up, looking around this new place curiously. Sure enough, sitting some distance away from them with a half burned cigarette in hand, was Dr. Park.

Seeing her newest patient was awake, Lisa tossed him a lopsided smile. "Back in the land of the living, child?" She mused before taking another drag of the cigarette and chuckling. "Rattled around in your brain for a few good days, undoing what we could while you slept. Blaire's control on you will no longer perfect."

"Thank you."

Sebastian froze.

Lisa's smile curled upwards knowingly and even Waylon was beaming as Sebastian slowly realised that sound had come from him. That was…that was _his_ voice. Rough, dry and scratchy from disuse – but his.

Overwhelming, that was it was. Sebastian's hands crawled up to his throat and he squeezed, able to feel the would be sobs before they left his mouth. "Thank you so much. So, _so_ much." He croaked, laughing through the disbelief and tears. It was ridiculous to be crying when he was so happy.

He opened his mouth to say something else. It didn't matter what he said at this point, just so long as he was able to do it. However the pounding of hurried footsteps caught his attention, silencing anything he might have said. Just before the door flung inwards with a loud bang, Sebastian heard Lisa mutter "Oh here we go." Under her breath with an amused huff.

"The girls told me he was awake!"

Standing in the open doorway, looking disheveled was the man from the pictures pinned to Wernicke's wall. The one with the dark hair and scowl. Only right now he wasn't glaring at anything, instead his eyes were wide and frantic until they landed on Sebastian. Then the man stilled, going stiff as a board. The pair stared at one another, one of them just confused as to what was going on while the other grappled with exactly how best to approach this situation.

Two years he'd waited and now that he had what he'd wanted, Riley didn't know what to do with it.

Finally the older man broke away from the doorframe, stepping into the room on unsteady feet. The first two steps were taken cautiously but once he seemed confident that he was not imagining the blonde sitting there, Riley flung himself inwards, catching the younger man in a tight hug.

At first Sebastian just remained still as a statue under Riley's arm. Noticing the lack of his left arm immediately. This did nothing to stop the hug from being near bone crushing.

Desperation, Sebastian thought as he felt the older man's hold tighten, shoulders trembling slightly.

Gradually he lifted his arms to wrap around Riley in return, eyes sliding shut. This man felt like home. A ridiculous notion really. Sebastian hadn't had a real home a day in his life. From what he knew he was created in a lab, spent two years in it and then got shipped off to act as some unknowing weapon against Murkoff. He'd never settled into a home. But this man, this man who Sebastian couldn't shake the feeling of knowing, felt like what he imagined a home ought to be.

Warm, sturdy, and full of love. Sebastian's memories were far away, barely even worth mentioning. But somewhere inside his head, locked up as it might be, he remembered this one. His brother. He thought of the recordings he'd found from Trager, subject two wasn't it? No. He didn't like that very much, thinking of his brother by a number rather than name.

"Seb…" The sheer emotion in the mountain of a man's voice startled Sebastian. He sounded about as desperate as his embrace would suggest but still, to hear such tenderness and vulnerability coming from the mouth of a creature made purely for the sake of killing…well it left Sebastian reeling. "You're back." He continued, voice thick. "You're really back."

With the man's voice came another wave of recognition. This time accompanied by the memory of Trager once calling 'subject two' by name. Hesitantly, Sebastian tried it himself. "…Riley?"

It was as though a great weight had lifted from the older man's shoulders and he slumped against Sebastian. "That's right." He murmured in overwhelming relief. "That's right, it's me. I'm not going to let anything happen to you ever again. I promise."

Despite everything. The lies, the killing, all that blood, Sebastian was able to lean into Riley. Lean into the offered support and protection. He was even able to believe that this time he wasn't being lied to. This person under his hands was undeniably his brother. He felt it as strongly as he did his own heartbeat and even though he knew that logically he knew next to nothing about Riley, it felt like he could have known his brother like he knew his own mind.

He _trusted_ Riley.

And that scared him more than Sebastian was willing to admit. But nonetheless, trust him he did.

"Well look at you." Then abruptly it felt like the dream was over. Sebastian's entire body locked up in blind panic as a familiar voice carried into the room.

No static came with it, no radio to pass the message of a liar along. Instead the accented voice was strong and present, in the same room as Sebastian was. The body that had tensed now began to tremble, shaking with rage and fear in equal measure. What was he playing at? Using that voice again, like the lie hadn't been revealed, like he could somehow still confuse Sebastian with it.

Riley noticed the change immediately in his brother and alarm raced through him at the sight of Sebastian's quaking. It took a moment, studying the blonde's face and reactions before he realised the problem.

"Miles shut up!" He barked back at his friend viciously. More than what was truly necessary for the situation. It was a bad habit, responding violently when family was on the line but he knew Miles would understand once he comprehended the situation.

"Wow, wow, what did I do?" Miles, whom had just entered the room the check on the progress of their newest arrival, took a shaky step back with his hands raised in surrender. He trusted Riley, truly he did, but he also knew first hand how crippling a punch from the one armed man could be. "Just came to see how you were fairing, kid. Jesus."

"Upshur." Lisa broke in, voice hard when directed at Miles. "Stop talking." She knew just as well as Riley what the problem was, although Lisa was more likely to be level headed enough to explain. "You know who you sound like now."

It clicked. 

Miles groaned low in the back of his throat. Anger he'd forgotten he could feel rushing back up to the surface. "Ah bleeding hell." He groused, raking his fingers through his hair. "Right, right, I hear ya." He took one sorry look at the kid in Riley's hold and frowned. Taking a moment Miles gather his composure and when he opened his mouth next he tried his damndest to not sound like himself. "I'm no good at changing voices, but is this any better?" He asked, trying to sound more American than Irish with varied results.

Apparently poor enough that Waylon had to bite back a bark of laughter. Earning him a withering look from Miles.

"W-What…." The poor kid was shaking, staring at Miles over his brother's shoulder like he had just crawled his way right out of hell. Seemed appropriate seeing as he thought Miles was someone else all together.

With a heavy sigh Miles stepped further into the room, dragging a chair with him before plonking himself down on it backwards to peer at the Sinclair brothers over his arms. "Look kid, I don't like it anymore than you do but it's difficult to not sound like myself. I'm no conartist."

It didn't seem to be making sense to Sebastian. Face still screwed up in confusion so Miles went on. "Awhile back, before everything truly went to shit down here, I got…lets say a little bit political." A scoff from Waylon and another withering look sent his way. "Now don't get me wrong, I'm not at all adverse to a bit of admiration for good deeds done. But I am adverse to getting strung up by Murkoff for causing strife. So I kept my name out of it, but you know how it is. People need a name to go with a hero. Folks 'round here started throwing around the name Atlas. Stuck like glue and I was a little sweet on it myself if we're being completely honest."

Slowly understanding was crossing Sebastian's face and it was a relief to see some of the tension draining out of his body. Looking less likely to attempt strangling Miles or passing out. "You're Atlas…" He muttered, voice one of disbelief. Not that Miles blamed him for that. "The real one."

"Was." He corrected immediately. "Problem with a name is that it's not that hard to steal. I'd built up quite the reputation and it was embarrassingly easy for Blaire to take all the credit after. Man's good at what he does, I'll hand that to him. Before I knew it he was running around as Atlas and I was stuck under the city trying to make sure I didn't get my head lobbed off by his men or Murkoff's."

It had been the end of a dream for him. Miles had come to Rapture as a rather late arrival. Excited to see what this underwater paradise could offer, what he was shown was a city where the poor just got poorer and the rich spent their time finding ways to ruin each other.

He'd been a fool to think he could change things. To help anyone, but he'd been an optimist and for a time Miles truly believed he could do some good. Atlas had been the hero they needed, too bad Blaire was just a little more cunning than anyone gave him credit for.

Now he was looking at this kid, terrified of the sound of his voice, in a city filled with the dead and those just waiting to die and he had to wonder if it was worth a damn in the first place. "Sorry, kid." Miles murmured with a forlorn smile. "Ain't no Atlas. Not really. It was just a dream."

Leaning back Miles glanced around their little safe house. Damn thing had leaks like you wouldn't believe, but it kept them hidden and mostly safe from splicers. One of the few places left and it was likely to be underwater if some repairs didn't get made. What was it they'd said? Ah, that's right. Once it started leaking, it was never going to stop.

"Best we can do now is get the hell out of Rapture." He said with a small shrug. "Not much left down here worth saving even if we could."

Waylon perked up this time. "I know that there's still an escape pod in Persephone that's in pretty good condition, can't get to the damn thing without Archimbaud's key. But if we could I know that I could get it out of here." Waylon was both frustrated and excited by this. He'd been looking into the bathysphere designs for months now, looking for anything that would allow them escape to the surface.

Difficult given their requirements. Something that Murkoff couldn't remotely destroy before they got topside and a vessel large enough to carry not only them but all the little sisters they'd managed to gather. Given that most everything was broken, taken or under the control of Murkoff they hadn't had many options.

The escape pod in Persephone was exactly what they needed. Even with Blaire now in charge of Rapture, he'd have no way of doing anything about the escape pod from the control rooms and so long as he didn't' know it existed, they had a chance.

Only catch was it's owner. "Martin is a nutjob, like everyone else down here." Miles sighed, thinking about the old priest just a little bitterly. Maybe he still meant well, but he had them all trapped down here one way or another. Only bastard lucky enough to have a means of escape and he'd rather they all stay down here and meet god that way.

"I just need more time." Waylon urged.

"We couldn't leave now even if we wanted to. There are still little sisters out there." Lisa weighed in, looking tired after so many months of slugging through the same issues. "We still don't have access to Dionysus Park. There's at least a few girls there we haven't been able to reach. Not to mention Persephone and Mercury Suites haven't been properly swept. It's taken us two years to gather the girls we have. There's no way we'll be able to collect those left with only Riley."

It occurred to Sebastian as he listened to the group try to hash out some kind of plan that he might be of some help. "If Waylon works on the escape pod." He began, still not used to the sound of his own voice as it came out of his throat. "And Mr. Upsur tries to get through to Archimbaud, Riley and I can go out and try to help the remaining little sisters."

Lisa mulled this over for a moment before frowning a bit. "That would work, but Sebastian you're not safe yet. Blaire's control…"

"But you…you _fixed_ me." Sebastian protested. "You gave me my voice, took away those…those damn words!"

"For all the good it will do you." She muttered darkly snubbing out her cigarette with a heavy sigh. "We made your mind with a stupid amount of locks and keys. That bastard has damn near all the keys. There's some I was never even told about."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that you've still got a head full of triggers and tricks that we don't even know about. You go out there now into Blaire's line of sight and he may just activate one that shuts down your entire nervous system or send a message to your lungs to stop breathing." She elaborated, each possibility making Sebastian feel a little sick. He…was really that easily controlled? Right down to the point where his life would end on command?

After a moment of watching Sebastian look like he was about to be sick, Lisa spoke again. This time her voice was only marginally more positive. "Look, he and Trager were thick as thieves, but as it always is among criminals – they had secrets from one another. Trager designed you and passed the reigns over to Blaire when the right amount of money was on the table. But if I know anything about that freak – and unfortunately I do – he kept the best secrets to himself. You go to his flat in Mercury Suites, you might find one of them."

"He's not going anywhere." Riley broke in sharply. Lisa looked unimpressed by his tone and Waylon shifted a little closer to his wife. They all trusted Riley, but that growl in his voice was nothing to scoff at. "He's not going anywhere near Mercury Suites or that sick freak. No way."

"Riley…" Sebastian began to protest but was silenced by little more than a look from his older brother.

"It's not safe and you're not going." That sounded very final. Sebastian didn't say anything else and after a few more seconds of giving the younger man a hard look, Riley was satisfied in thinking the topic had been appropriately dropped.

Getting up the one-armed man head back towards the common room. Likely drawn back to his role as protector, needing to keep an eye on the little sisters. "We'll figure something out." He added, pausing in the doorway to glance back in at his friends. "Just…nothing that puts you in harms way. Okay?"

It was as though he was mute again, giving a small wordless nod. The relieved smile on Riley's face was almost worth the lie. But the moment he stepped out of the room, door clicking shut behind him, Miles was speaking of treachery. He hadn't even waiting for Riley's footsteps to fade before he was leaning over the back of his chair with a cheeky grin plastered over his face.

"So to get to Mercury Suites you're going to have to-"

Sebastian would apologize later.

…  
…

The undercity passageways were a mess. Not unlike the rest of Rapture he supposed. Sebastian found himself needing to make an exit for himself to be able to get into Mercury Suites. It was meant to be a fairly easy process, having gotten a mountain of supplies from Miles before he set out. A few splicers would litter the way and maybe the odd big daddy, but nothing he hadn't fought before.

That was the theory.

Except Sebastian still needed his radio to get messages from Lisa. The woman knew the most about Trager and so it was her job to guide him through the process. Had Riley been aware and a little less violently opposed to the excursion it would have been his voice talking Sebastian through it. Unfortunately, he was something of the resident expert on Trager. Being his favorite pet lab rat gave him a unique outlook on the man.

Having Lisa in his ear was a welcome comfort. But it did mean the radio had to be on and in Rapture there was really only one working frequency, which meant…

"Ah there you are." Sebastian nearly stopped walking, hell he nearly tripped over his own two feet when that smug voice came crackling over the radio. _Blaire_. "Honestly, can't believe you holed up with the _Parks_ of all people. Knew Lisa was still playing mother hen to those little monsters, but that damn techie…thought that one was dead."

Tailing off Blaire muttered something under his breath that the radio didn't quite pick up. Something about Park being an insufferable cockroach that just wouldn't die. But then he was back, tone brightening considerably as he spoke to Sebastian. "Alright fun's fun, kid, but now play time is over. Would you kindly go get stepped on by a big daddy? A little bit of punishment. Maybe next time you'll stay put when I god damn tell you to."

As the words washed over him Sebastian tensed, awaiting for his body to betray him and start to obey. He waited for a couple second, expecting that at any moment Lisa's work would come undone and he'd be right under Blaire's thumb again.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Sebastian might have felt a slight pull, a sense that he ought to obey but his body didn't so much as twitch on the command. Ecstatic Sebastian's face lit up into a grin and he began to make his way out of the passageways and into Apollo Square.

Blaire noticed the lack of obedience only a moment later.

"Huh…what the hell. Are you not listening to me Sinclair?" He seethed, voice caught between rage and disbelief. "I _said_ , would you kindly get your-" He stopped and understanding settled in. Followed by a growl low in the back of his throat. "Ah, I see. Mother goose has been knocking around in your head, has she?"

Sebastian was just crawling his way out into Apollo Square, trying his best not to listen too closely to what Blaire had to say. "Fine." There was an edge of smugness that caused Sebastian to hesitate. What did Blaire had to be so confident about? "You won't dance to that tune, fine. I got others just for you. Code Vigalondo."

The world turned red around him, and Sebastian felt all the air get punched out of him. Stumbling he found his knees hitting the ground roughly, but he was still choking just trying to drag air back into his lungs.

Gleefully over the radio provided an explanation. "I just told your brain to tell your heart to stop beating."

Blind panic over took Sebastian and his mind raced to come up with a solution to this problem. He came up blank and for a second he truly wondered if he could die. Funny, not long ago he would have been relieved to know he _could_ die. But now there were other things on the line that kept him clinging to life. He'd just gotten back his brother for god's sake. He couldn't leave now.

"Oh don't look so grim." Blaire chuckled cruelly. "You won't die. Not right off the bat anyway. The heart's a stubborn muscle. But, not that stubborn."

Turning his scowl upwards Sebastian again wondered exactly where Blaire was watching him from. Once upon a time it had been only a few cameras belonged to Blaire and the rest to Murkoff. But now they were all his.

"I'd wager you have little under an hour." Just one hour? That was all he had? Sebastian began to panic again knowing he had so much he still had to do. "So, here's my offer kid. You put aside whatever ridiculous notion of freewill you've got lodged in your pretty little head, and drag your sorry ass back to my office before your heart stops and I'll undo the command. Now don't that sound mighty generous of me?"

Dragging himself back up onto two feet, using the wall as support Sebastian took a moment to pull one full breath of air into his lungs before again turning his scowl upwards. "Counter offer." He ground out through his teeth and a vindictive swell of satisfaction flooded him as he could feel Blaire's shock at hearing him _speak_ through the silence. "Go fuck yourself."

Blaire let out a bark of laughter. "Holy shit, look at that, it speaks." He gasped through a fit of laughter. His voice came back vicious and amused. "Alright kid you want to play it like that? _Fine_."

What he had not been expecting was the extraordinary amount of splicers waiting for him. That's right, Sebastian thought as he pulled the familiar weight of his shotgun down off his shoulders, lining up the first of many shorts, Blaire owns all the splicers now. And he'd been following Sebastian through Rapture since he arrived, he'd be able to follow him through it now as well.

It was…well to say it was difficult would be an understatement. Sebastian had killed splicers before, plenty of them. But this was more focused, they hit harder – they were more vicious and it wasn't long before Sebastian was struggling.

A houdini splicer had got the drop on him, crafty fucking things that they were. He screamed when it hit him with a blast of fire and then came back at it just as hard with a shot of lightening before slamming his wrench down across its face. It was similar to the first time he'd killed a splicer. The way its head gave away under the weight of the metal with a sickening crunch was damn near nostalgic. Just like that first lady this one didn't get back up and Sebastian marveled briefly at how useful _Atlas's_ advice had been. One two, punch.

But that hit had been costly and Sebastian found patching up charred flesh to be more difficult than bullet wounds or cuts. It clung uncomfortably to the bandages, didn't heal as quickly when treated with EVE based products and it hurt. It hurt more than he was willing to admit out loud.

The burns ached as he slugged through Apollo Square. The splicers that met him along the way were dealt with quickly at the price of heavier ammunition. Sebastian just didn't want them getting close enough to add more injuries to the list so he sacrificed precious fuel for his flamethrower to keep them at bay.

Even the heat from his own gun stung the injuries and before long he was forced to take a break. Reaching for another med kit as he slumped down in a sheltered corner. It was then that Blaire's voice returned, just as mocking as it had been earlier.

"Hate to see you like this, kid." He said, not sounding the like that was even remotely true. "Really kills me to have to turn my fist on you, hell I was there when you were born. But business is business and I got a decade long investment in the shithole. Still…really chokes a man up. Ever have a pup you got to put down?"

Sebastian's head whipped up a snarl on his face because yes. He remembered and Blaire clearly knew that. Even now, the memories were muted enough to save him the gory details, but he could now distinctly remember the puppy's yelps of pain as its little neck gave away under his hands. The betrayal that dog felt rivaled his own knowing what Blaire had done.

In response to the loathing Sebastian felt in that moment, Blaire only chuckled before purring. "Breaks your heart."

There was a furious retort on the tip of his tongue, Sebastian was even climbing back to his feet just to shout it at Blaire when his heart gave a painful tug and brought him crashing back to the ground. The pressure around his chest continued to constrict; crushing him, pulling tighter and tighter until he thought it would burst. He'd felt his heart burst in a monster's hand before, but now it felt as though it was not safe even in his own chest.

Beyond the pain, Blaire's voice was there, sneering at him. "That's it kid." He murmured through the radio, voice heavy with his spite. "You're just about burned out. Sure you don't want to reconsider my generous offer?"

Those words were enough to get him moving. It was purely out of his own spite that Sebastian threw himself up off the ground and back onto his feet. This time he took of running, wielding the wrench more like a bat as he flew past surprised splicers, taking off ones head and shattering another's ribcage with two swift swings before moving on as though there'd never been any resistance in the first place.

He didn't use his words but the actions were more than enough; _fuck you_.

Distantly he heard Blaire's voice, irritation seeping into the usually conceited words the longer he was disobeyed. "You are something else kid."

…  
…

The words kept coming. Getting angrier and more frustrated with every call of the radio blaring into life.

Blaire slipped in and out of being enraged, to snide and right back to infuriated again. It was these changes in mood and the increase in his chattering that made Sebastian think he was getting close to something Blaire didn't want him finding. Which meant he wanted it.

Given the limited time he had, Blaire's constant snarling only encouraged him to move faster.

He'd been barred from getting anywhere near Blaire's property by a passcode but he was able to find something else. Trager did indeed seem to have his own cluster of secrets, one of which might just undo Blaire's control entirely. Lot 192, which set off bells in Lisa's head. She had a dose of that, something she'd stolen from Trager without fully knowing its purpose. She'd been right to take it, knowing Trager to be a secretive, snide bastard, but she could not have known just how important it would prove to be. Following Lisa's instructions Sebastian set out in search of this miracle drug that would save his life.

When Blaire spoke next it was nothing but anger – they were getting closer.

"You think you're some kind of hero? Some kind of real boy? I ordered you up from Trager, I made you. You don't' have anything except for me. What do you plan on going back to? Your fake family? Your phony dreams? Things I dreamed up for you!"

This one struck a nerve and Sebastian planted his foot in the face of some fallen splicer, crushing it under his boot before he whipped around to shout into the general direction of a camera.

"I _have_ a family!" He snapped back accusingly. "More of a family than you turned out to have."

"Oh-hoho, you want to get smart with me, boy?" Blaire snarled back through the radio. He must have seen Sebastian going for the radio. Briefly he offered up a mental apology to Lisa for putting her in the dark but in that moment he would have done anything to win at least one fight with Blaire. "Kid don't you _dar_ -"

Click.

The radio went off and silence was Sebastian's victory. With a pleased smirk he continued up into the living quarters he'd found. Lisa had directed him here in the hope of finding some old files she stashed away before running to the safe house. But when Sebastian arrived on the upper floors, having cleared out the few splicers he could and ignoring the mad ramblings of those far away enough to not cause problems, he found a wreck.

This was certainly the right room but the door had been broken open, hanging pitifully off its hinges. Cautiously stepping inside provided no better. The furniture all upturned, puddles forming where the walls had been caved in and leaks sprung. Some of it was even smoldering, the memory of a once blazing fire.

Among the wreckage, were papers. Most too far-gone to be salvaged. Sebastian stopped on occasion to see if any of the scattered documents would prove useful to them. What he found were memories of a family destroyed that were painful for anyone to read.

Lisa and Waylon Park had once lived here, this was there home. A place they had been happy and safe once upon a time. Now it was exactly like the rest of rapture, decaying and falling apart around them. Nothing more than the corpse of what had been.

Sadly Sebastian reached for the radio, clicking it back on and waiting in silence. He needn't wait long.

"Look at our home." Lisa murmured, voice thick with grief. It was quickly joined by anger. "Torn apart by Blaire and his men no doubt. Damn pigs. Shit, the samples will be gone. Up to that god awful penthouse of his."

As if in answer to Lisa's frustration, Blaire's laughter cut through the static.

"What do you take me for, Sinclair? Some kind of mental deadend? We ransacked Mother Goose's roost the moment she decided to grow a conscience. Bad for business you see." Then he went on to add with a self satisfied sneer. "You won't find a damn thing here, kid, 'cept maybe her memories. And trust me on this: you don't want 'em."

But Sebastian looked anyway. He'd seen so much already and the thought of abandoning what little remained of the Park family history felt…well it almost felt rude. These people had saved him and Riley, helped them when there was nothing else. Sebastian thought that he could look at their atrocities and forgive them. That was the least he could do.

What he found was precisely what Blaire promised. Memories and a stab of betrayal in his gut. Lisa had worked on them, on himself Riley and even Billy at one point. She worked on the little sisters, made this place a reality. Half the keys that Blaire held over him were crafted by Lisa and every single one of those agitating security drones had been designed by Waylon.

Even now he could remember being riddled with bullets when he took a wrong turn and faced a turret. But Sebastian pushed down the initial swell of anger he felt. They'd made mistakes, that much he knew. But they did everything in their power to atone for them, to make things better.

He owed them his life. More than that, he owed them his friendship.

So he turned away from the ruins of the Park's home and head back out. This time in search of Trager's lab on the thin hope that he'd find the drug he needed there. That's if Blaire's men hadn't already torn it apart themselves. He was running out of time. Maybe only half an hour left.

Feeling the pressure of this time restrain Sebastian very nearly missed a familiar voice calling to him. "Little angel!" He tensed up at the pet name and nearly took off running. Reluctantly he turned and found himself facing a pair of dancers. Ah…well okay.

Confused Sebastian had a bit of a closer look, wanting to see if they were real people or splicers. He couldn't tell with those masks on their faces but he sure as hell knew who was making them dance. Glancing upwards he could just see the figure of Gluskin in the window of an apartment.

"Ah." The man murmured, a knowing edge to his voice. "So the angel had spread his wings, still getting used to it are we, love? Quite the change I'm sure. Stay and enjoy the dance if you wish ... but don't dare rattle their rhythm!"

"You knew." Sebastian replied flatly. Not wanting to think about those _dancers_. "You knew what I was."

"Oh and the angel's voice is sweet. How delightful." Gluskin marveled, and Sebastian tried not to be made uncomfortable with the way the massive bulk of a man swooned. "Yes dear angel, I knew. But an artist knows best when to keep a secret, tell it and the secret loses its beauty you see. And of course a gentleman does not gossip. Forgive me dear for not telling you, but I simply couldn't ruin the surprise. The moment of your awakening."

Right. Sebastian thought dryly, not giving voice to his gripes. His awakening had been something like a punch in the gut but ultimately it brought him back to Riley and those few he could call friends so Sebastian did not get too angry.

"Your daddy ought to be proud of you." Gluskin mused at one point and Sebastian's frown deepened at the thought of Wernicke. "You look so much like he did in his youth. Such a pretty young thing." Trying not to think of himself as the splitting image of a man he killed Sebastian decided it was time to take his leave.

They were still on that timer after all.

"Thank you for all your help." He said although he surely didn't mean it and the words tasted like ash in his mouth. As if playing to appease Gluskins' twisted sense of courtesy, Sebastian bowed slightly at the waist before turning away from the dancers. He didn't want to risk stepping on Gluskin's nerves and was careful not to in any way disturb them.

As he left Sebastian did hear Gluskin's voice just once more. "Oh, and angel? Do be careful when you finally do dance with the devil." Had he not thought Gluskin perfectly within his rights to think of Blaire as a devil – Sebastian may have laughed at those words.

How like an artist.

…

…

Blaire had gone quiet. Even after the radio was left on once again, Blaire's voice did not return with it. Sebastian was relieved for the silence but did wonder if it meant he was getting further away from his goal. He worried about that until he found the doors he'd been looking for.

He'd found Trager's lair and not a peep from Blaire.

Being in the lab…well it was like something out of a badly recalled dream.

Occasionally when he turned a corner Sebastian would find himself assaulted with a sense of nostalgia. Not the sweet kind he'd felt when embracing Riley again after so long apart, no, this memory was the type that settled deep into his bones and kept his blood cold. His heart, still struggling to keep beating against the orders of their traitorous mind, shuddering fearfully in his chest.

This was the place he was grown.

Curiosity won out over caution and as Sebastian ventured inside, he found his finger tips tracing along the walls. Searching for anything that might trigger another memory. It was little seemingly unimportant things that did it. A table he once hid under when Trager deemed it a good day to let the monster's run wild.

For all the horrible, unforgivable things Trager had been – a strict man was not one of them.

He recalled Lisa's voice, sharp and professional as she chided Trager for one thing or another. Although Sebastian never knew what the problem was, he always knew when it linked back to him or another child.

Deeper in he went. This time it was a painting that caught his eye. It was torn down the middle now, falling victim to the mindless violence like the rest of Rapture, but in his memory it was whole and being admired by another young monster. This monster was Billy.

He didn't remember if they spoke, couldn't remember if they even had the ability to form words. But Sebastian did recall walking in to see Billy, fresh out of an experiment, wounds on his head and neck still oozing with blood, sitting in front of the painting. A young, naïve him had sat down next to Billy and stared as well. Sebastian had not understood what was so intriguing about the painting but it had been nice to sit with the boy that was considered his brother for a while, unbothered by tests or fears yet to come.

Looking at it now he understood why Bill had been fascinated. The painting was one of myth; it depicted a great hero overcoming some deep sea beast. Sebastian wondered, with his new understanding of their world, if Billy had thought of himself as the monster or man in this painting.

Pulling himself away from that memory he moved onto another. Shared with Riley this time and far less pleasant. He and Riley had been created in closer proximity to one another by Blaire's demand. As such many of their check ups an procedures took place around the same date if not at the same time. The memory conjured up by a bloody metal table. Their examination table.

Looking at it gloomily he remembered not one but many instances he'd been here. Sometimes watching Riley getting tested, sometimes being the one on it himself. Crying no matter which it was.

Trager was not a strict man, no. But he'd never been a kind man either.

Turning away from the past as best he could Sebastian went out in search of the chemical he needed. The place didn't look like it had been turned over like the Park's apartment had. Besides from some basic damage and disrepair it was in pretty good shape. For Rapture at least.

But he wasn't finding the vial he was looking for. Growing frustrated Sebastian began to topple over desks and cabinets in his desperate searching. He was running out of time too quickly. He could feel the seconds trickling by now, turning into minutes as his body clock counted down to termination.

"Where is it?" He whispered under his breath as he tore through a bookshelf, tossing aside the musty old journals and instruction manuals. He passed through papers with some bird monstrosity drawn on them, only pausing for a split second to wonder what other monsters Trager had been thinking about creating. This one would have been pointless, no where to fly underwater. "Where on earth _is_ it?"

"Looking for this, buddy?"

Sebastian leapt back in alarm, not having expected another person's voice. He hadn't heard any splicers nearby and that was for good reason, the man standing before him was not one to let rouge splicers into his home. But he'd readily allowed Sebastian access.

"Well look at you!" Trager crowed happily, the spindly stick of a man approaching Sebastian will all the casualness of a reacquainted friend. "All grown up and murdering people, can't tell you how proud I am of you, buddy. Thought for sure you'd be the runt of the pack."

Smiling wildly Trager waved the little yellow vial back and forth, watching the light it gave off reflecting back in the boy's horrified eyes.

"Give that to me!" Sebastian demanded the moment he found his voice, lunging for the vial only to have the air punched out of him as Trager threw him back with a simply flick of his wrist. A plasmid. He hadn't met up with too many splicers that could use telekinesis with such ease but Trager had thrown him through a wall with little more than a thought.

This time it was the wall that gave away before Sebastian broke. He crashed through the corroded wall, with a tremendous bang and came to sit nestled among its remains, dirty water leaking down atop his head. Ah. This was a familiar feeling around Trager – a mix of terror and humiliation.

While Sebastian struggled to pull himself out of the rubble of the wall he'd just caved in with his body, Trager approached him. Once again all smiles. "Aw jeez, you're going to hurt my feelings like that. Aren'tcha happy to see me bucko? Haven't seen you since you were yay high." He chuckled watching as Sebastian pulled himself back to his hands and knees, pieces of debris clinging to his clothes and tangling in his hair.

"I said give me that!" He snapped again, words more difficult to choke out now that his back was no doubt blossoming into a lovely set of bruises. "I need it."

"Oh believe me, I know exactly what you need." Trager mused with a cold smile that went straight down Sebastian's spine. "We're practically family, Sebby. A little more enthusiasm on your part would be nice." Trager hummed thoughtfully when he got little more than a snarl out of the blonde. "No? A little more incentive then?"

The twisted smile stretching out across Trager's face was decidedly not okay with Sebastian. He could only watch in horror as the doctor turned on his side, one hand used to keep the force of the plasmid pressing down on Sebastian's chest as the other held the lot 192 against his hip. "What do you think, buddy?" He called into the doorway. "Didn't I provide enough incentive?"

He knew it before the answer came. Knew exactly what was happening before the man ever stepped into view. But sure enough a moment later Jeremy Blaire stepped through the doorway, idly adjusting his cuffs as he walked in as though this was a perfectly normal situation. "I would say you provided ample incentive." He shrugged carelessly before locking eyes on Sebastian's trapped body. Not a second later that impassive expression broke into a callous sneer. "This one is just a touch rebellious."

It was the stare of a man who had won that Sebastian was faced with. Jeremy was untouchable in Rapture, he still in a perfectly clean suit among the rubble and chaos, rising above it all now that he was in control. Splicers wouldn't touch him and should they even attempt it another would have their throat before they'd even have the chance to lay so much as a pinky on Blaire's immaculate suit.

He _owned_ them the only difference between Sebastian and those splicers was that he knew it.

This time Sebastian was pushing himself into the rubble, no encouragement from Trager's plasmid needed. He would have given anything for the floor to open up and swallow him whole. Even better for the roof to cave in and crush them all to death. Anything was preferable to being here, trapped and at the mercy of men who created him.

"Rebellious huh?" Trager rolled the thought about as though it had never occurred to him. They were mocking Sebastian. Dragging out this little performance because he was trapped and they damn well knew it. For all the splicers Sebastian had cut through, at least he never _played_ with them. "I don't remember teaching you that trick, kiddo. Been hanging out with bad influences have we? Well…we can't have that."

Sebastian began to push against Trager's telekinesis again, frantic in his little jerks and shoves but ultimately unable to shift the invisible weight on his chest so much as an inch. Trager crouched down by his side, holding that chemical he so desperately needed just out of reach. Taunting him with it.

"Did mommy send you to get this? Naughty, naughty, such a shame when parents use their kids to hurt one another." He sighed dramatically, before tossing the precious vial over his shoulder letting it shatter as it hit the ground. Sebastian screamed as it broke, letting his only hope seep into Raptures cracks and drain away, lost to him forever. All the while Trager watched his expression with unconcealed glee.

"Now, now, don't get all worked up, buddy. Papa Trager is here to make it all better. Set that pretty head of your straight again." The moment Sebastian comprehended what Trager meant his panic entered a whole new level. What he had thought to be his most earnest attempts at struggling free were put to shame with the way he started to kick and scream now. Because he knew…he knew that if Trager got his fingers into his head – that'd be it.

Forget his heart stopping. Forget Rapture sinking. If Trager was able to pull apart his mind, Sebastian would be right back where he started. Trapped and with no way out. Death was preferable.

Frantic his eyes made the mistake of slipping over to where Jeremy Blaire stood, observing with a look of amusement but not stepping in to actively make it worse. Biding his time.

"Now there'll be a slight pinch. Not gunna lie kid. That slight pinch might actually be more like a punch to the gut, but hell – you're built to last." Trager was saying happily, producing a needle that looked only slightly less insidious than the things little sisters carried around. Inside of this needle was something transparent and Sebastian had no choice but to remain still as it pressed into his arm.

The pinch Trager mentioned drew a scream out of Sebastian, the sound tearing right out of his chest as whatever it was Trager had just deemed fit to put into his body went to work. It couldn't have just been something to knock him out, oh no, this one had to hurt on the way down.

Punishment for his disobedience. A familiar punishment at that. One of Trager's old favorites from when they were children.

"Shh, shh oh stop making such a fuss." Trager's voice was far away in his head. "Once you wake up ol' Rick is going to have you all bright and shiny again. Good as new. Don't you trust me, Buddy?"

"Likely about as much as I trust you with my checkbook." That was Blaire's voice in the background. A low drawl of boredom and just a hint of irritation. "Not after the shit you pulled." Trager laughed in delight not at all put off by Blaire's words.

"Aw you're not still cranky about that are you, Jer? Come on, can't a guy have a few secrets to put in his diary." The answer was lost somewhere in the static as Sebastian slipped out of consciousness. He was sure the response was sharp and irritated but he never did get the words. Just the thought that it was something angry.

But it was too late to make out anything now. He was slipping away and while the fire in his veins persisted even after the darkness had come up to claim him, the rest of the world fell away from his mind and Sebastian left the waking world knowing that if he returned it would be as a slave.

…

…

He was coming in and out of consciousness. It was a sluggish process and not the most elegant of Sebastian's frequent returns to the world of the living.

Each time he was almost out something would pull him back under and he wasn't sure how much time would pass before he came back again. The only constant was the sound of voices. Usually sharp and tossing back banter from time to time, but at the very least persistent.

"Rick…" One growled in frustration and Sebastian's hazy mind struggled to come up with the name. He struggled to remember his own name. "If you break my things you're going to pay me back every damn cent."

"You worry too much Jer. His heads just stubborn is all. Nothing a little pulling can't fix."

"Try not to pull anything important out for god's sake. He's useless if he can't remember how to swing that bloody wrench."

He faded out of that conversation only to return to a different one when he next moved closer to consciousness.

"What the hell is taking so long?" That same voice barked.

"These things take time, Jer. You know that."

There was another argument brewing. Sebastian thought that this time it was a little bit clearer and his head was beginning to pound unpleasantly. The sensation of someone tugging at his skull never truly went away but the volume of the pair's voices was beginning to add pressure to the mounting headache he couldn't stand.

So Sebastian attempted to silence the argument. He was barely even present in his own mind but still able to reach out with his hand.

"Christ, Rick!" There was a note of alarm in the voice this time. "You didn't fucking tie him down?"

"Kids going to be mush for at least another few days, I'd say it's fine." Was the careless response. Sebastian could almost hear the shrug that no doubt accompanied those words.

His hand was still lifted. Grasping at empty air, trying to wave the two voices away for some peace and quiet. It didn't seem to be working but then something firm caught his hand and Sebastian still. For a second he couldn't identify the thing his hand pressed against, but it was firm and warm – something grounding beyond the buzzing in his head.

Then the thing squeezed his fingers slightly and laid his arm back down at this side. Another hand, Sebastian's foggy mind finally put a name to the thing. The unknown hand still held his, keeping his arm in place but not rough in his handling.

"Sleep kid." Quiet this time. Very nearly gentle.

The threat of the headache receded and Sebastian stilled. When he fell into unconsciousness this time he didn't come back from it for quite a while and when he did finally return, he pulled into the world of the living with a violent gasp for air. No more halfway measures. He was fully awake now.

Frightened Sebastian gulped down large gasps of air, feeling as though he'd suffocate if he didn't quickly learn how to breathe again. But his lungs were dragging in air as they should, his heart while it's beat was eradicate and wild it remained strong in his chest – all was working just as it should.

Slowly Sebastian came down from his panic and began to try and add rationality back into the equation. He'd jerked awake but his body hadn't gone anywhere. Sliding his gaze down he was unsurprised to find thick leather straps holding him securely on the table. There was a distant tiredness to his thoughts as he stared at the things. Thinking that this was not the first time he'd woke up strapped down to a medical table. He had hoped he would never find himself back here, but here he was.

Trapped again.

Warily Sebastian strained against the straps, testing for how sturdy they were and was as unsurprised as he was disappointed that they held firm around his wrists. Letting his head fall back against the table the trapped man stared tiredly up at the ceiling. That was not the lab's ceiling. It was too…something.

Uncertain Sebastian tilted his head, ignoring the unpleasant grinding sound that accompanied his skull dragging across the metal surface of the table. Staring upwards he finally put a name to the abnormality of the ceiling. It was wooden. Fucking wood in Rapture. He'd seen it from time to time of course, but the deep richness of that red tinted wood lead Sebastian to believe it out of place. He'd seen something similar in Wernicke's office, a construct like this spoke of wealth and an abandon for all common sense.

Which likely meant…

"About time you woke up."

Sebastian didn't even have it in him to flinch upon hearing Blaire's amused drawl. Instead he only let his head drop down to the side, staring in the direction of his voice. What he saw was Blaire sitting behind an oak desk to match his ludicrous ceiling, looking over something.

This struck Sebastian as amusing, because Blaire carried himself like there was some kind of work to be done. As though the whole world hadn't collapsed around them long before this.

But if the man needed a vice Sebastian would damn well leave him to it.

Looking up from the papers, Blaire caught Sebastian's unpleasant stare and smiled in response. "Not a morning person I take it?" He got silence as an answer and after leaving a moment of stillness in the air, Blaire chuckled quietly. "Now that is quite a waste, Sinclair. All mother goose's efforts to return your voice and you won't even use it."

"Fuck you."

"Yes, you've said that one before." Blaire replied flippantly before sliding out from behind his desk.

Now Sebastian tensed and Blaire sure as hell caught that reaction. Watching as the blonde's entire body locked up on the table, as if he could somehow brace himself for the pain he expected to come his way.

Well Blaire had never been one to disappoint.

"Just a bit of house keeping before we can move along to…" Cold eyes passed over Sebastian's bound up body with just a hint of scrutiny. "…working those kinks out of your brain."

Coming to a standstill over the table and Sebastian, Blaire took a moment to just observe him. As if he could find the faults he was looking for on the surface. Instead he noticed something else. "Not nearly as monstrous up close are you? Never got a to see how you turned out before they sent you top side and I couldn't get a proper look at you through those shoddy cameras. I certainly didn't expect Trager to make something so pretty. Still, got my money's worth I suppose." It was all the more pleasing to look down at Sebastian's unrightfully attractive face and think about the number of times it was smeared with blood. As well as all the times yet to come. Patience, Blaire reminded himself with a private smile. All in good time.

"We'll start this off nice and easy. Maybe it'll stay that way if you're well behaved. Tell me where Park and the rest of those little pests are holed up."

The way Sebastian's jaw locked stubbornly was more than enough to prompt Blaire to go right ahead and play a little dirtier. "Alright, you want to be like that? Let's see how thorough Trager was in that head of yours." Sebastian knew it was coming before Blaire said it. "Would you kindly stop breathing?"

The final breath Sebastian had tried to pull into his lungs caught in his throat and suddenly no more air would come in. It…it worked. Oh god it works.

He had thought, had some tiny little hope lodged inside his head that this time would be different. That Trager would not be able to undo all of Lisa's work so easily. He had though that just this once he'd actually be able to choose for himself. But as the oxygen he desperately needed was denied to him even though by all rights he could have easily been breathing it, Sebastian knew he was right back where he started.

Blaire let him squirm for a moment, unbridled satisfaction on his face as his favorite toy was returned to him. He'd never say it but that first time Sebastian failed to respond to the WYK trigger had been the one of the most alarming moments in all of Blaire's life. But all was well now, just a word and Sebastian was left teetering on the edge of passing out.

As it should be.

"Good boy, you can stop now." Immediately there was a gasp and Sebastian began to cough, choking on the large gasps of air he took in. Blaire allowed him all of ten seconds to relearn the art of breathing before continuing. "Now that you understand your position, lets try this just once more. Tell me where those sewer rats are hiding and maybe this will be less painful in the long run."

This time the silence was more strained. It was interesting to observe a man with no other options and no hope to cling onto still stubbornly stick to defiance. Sebastian was shaking; eyes squeezed shut in anticipation of the words that would draw his friend's location out of him.

It was with a quiet sigh of amusement that Blaire spoke those words. His fingers curling against Sebastian's cheek in mock tenderness. "Alright, kid you want to play the hero? Would you kindly spit out the location of everyone you've ever cared about so I can kill them?"

Another small gasp, pained and sharp from the blonde. But…no words.

Both men seemed stunned by the persisting silence. Gradually Sebastian's eyes cracked back open, hesitant to believe that he might just be able to keep his secret. But his tongue remained heavy in his mouth and no location given. The final straw was when Sebastian smiled.

With a snarl of rage Blaire turned around and threw all of the contents of the table onto the floor. He felt Sebastian flinch in response to the small display of violence but didn't stop to observe it this time. "Fucking Trager!" He cursed bitterly. Granted he'd been warned that with Lisa Park messing around in Sebastian's head he wouldn't come back perfect, but Blaire had expected a bit more progress than this.

Begrudgingly he ran over Trager's instructions once more in his head.

The man had always been extraordinarily flippant with such things, but he'd never actually failed to get a message across. It just took some decoding most days. He'd told Blaire that the conditioning might not be perfect, that he could clearly see, but he'd also mentioned it might just take some breaking in. After all he'd spent days getting into the kid's head when eh first arrived. Play the friend, earning trust and affection until he likely would have done anything Blaire asked without the trigger words. Now he had to build all his control back up from the ground again.

He'd been able to instruct Sebastian's lungs to stop working, but he couldn't damn well loosen his tongue? Fine, that was _fine_. Blair had gotten people to talk without the use of mental conditioning before. It just meant they'd have to take a step back, roll up his sleeve and do it the old fashioned way.

Christ he hated getting his hands dirty.

Turning back towards Sebastian, Blaire decided it was high time they see just how far his programing went and where his obedience ended. "Would you kindly not move a fucking inch while I do this." He hissed while plucking up one of the items he'd moments earlier sent crashing to the ground. A simple pair of scissors.

Fear crossed through Sebastian's eyes, sating some of Blaire's anger but not nearly enough to convince him to stop there. Instead it merely prompted a pleased smile as he laid the blades of the scissors down on Sebastian's torso. Exposed and unprotected from Blaire as he pressed down and drew the man's blood along with a cry of pain.

But he didn't move. Not so much as a damn twitch. His body was obedient; they just had to work on the rest of him.

Content with that Blaire retracted the blades and instead turned his attentions to the cuffs that kept Sebastian down. He undid them with a careless flick of his hand and was pleasantly surprised when Sebastian immediately leapt up, hands going for Blaire's throat.

Good, he had thought Sebastian might have lost a bit of that fight along the line. Although he certainly did not remember the kid being programed to be all piss and vinegar – it was hardly a disappointment. "Would ya kindly keep your hands to yourself?" Blaire purred and watched in fascination as the order settled into Sinclair's mind.

It was amazing seeing it happen up close. That moment of blankness in the blonde's face, a brief calculation as his mind arranged itself to the new instruction accordingly and then finally the result.

Sebastian's hands dropped limp to his sides and he was left glaring bitter holes into Blaire's head. Grinning in satisfaction Blaire leant forward, one hand carelessly cupped against the younger man's cheek. "That's a good boy. Knew you could be obedient when you tried." He mocked Sebastian relentlessly and was delighted when Sebastian snarled in response.

Now there were some reactions he'd never gotten out of Sinclair before. Oh so dutiful and sweet every step of the damn way. A saint walking his way through floods of splicer's blood looking like nothing could tarnish that pretty little smile of his. But this, oh this was some wonderful hatred he was seeing. Vicious and feral – likely not all that removed from the fear that kept Sebastian's body trembling when Blaire was near him.

"Not going to try your chances running?" Blaire cooed, enjoying the way Sebastian's eyes darted in the general direction of the door. Sizing up his chances when he knew perfectly well that he could be stopped dead in place with just three words. "Oh, come on, not even a small attempt? You never know, I might humor you for a while. See how far you can get before I tell your legs to march you right back in here."

The looks of rage and fear gradually crumbled into one that Blaire could only describe as despair. Not quiet as lovely to look at as Sebastian's anger, but pleasing nonetheless. "Why?" That one little word came out broken and desperate and suddenly Blaire was enamored with despair more than he was resentment. Because, oh how sweet that sounded, damn near like surrender. "Why am I here?"

"Why are you not some blood stain on my shoe you mean?" Blaire clarified with a sharp sneer. "Because kid I paid good money for you. I'm not the type of man that pays for quality goods and then throws them away before I'm finished with 'em." The hand that had lingered against Sebastian's cheek turned harsh now as Blaire grabbed the blonde's face roughly, forcing Sinclair to keep his eyes on him.

" _Granted_ you made that a touch difficult with your little rebellious streak – but at the end of the day you're still the weapon of choice." Blaire continued with a small shrug. "You have cut down every single splicer thrown at you and thanks to Wernicke's genetic code being programed into every damn bot around this place – you're practically unkillable." For a moment Blaire paused, rethought that comment and amended it with a cold smile. "Unless of course I decide otherwise."

"Then kill me." Sebastian snapped, voice still stretched thin with what Blaire thought might be the boy biting back tears.

"And do you a favour? What do you think this is, Sinclair? A charity case, ha, not bloody likely. No, no. You'll keep breathing till I'm done with you. I didn't give you permission to die and so you keep on living. You understand me? Until I tell you to drop dead, you're not going anywhere."

This seemed to be just the right thing to say and Sebastian's pretty blue eyes began to water. Blaire in response felt his smile twisting into something darker even as false comforts slipped from his tongue. "Now kid don't get weepy on me. It's not all that bad, after all you were made for this. No point trying to be anything else except what you were made to be. Which, if you haven't managed to worm it through that head of yours, is mine."

Pleased with the hopeless look in Sebastian's eyes Blaire finally allowed the man's head to drop back down, leaving him to a moment of misery as he righted himself. Looking around the room to decide exactly how he wanted to proceed. Normally there was much more of a struggle involved and Blaire had been known to set up rather elaborate torture methods in the past to get people feeling more conversational with him.

But he'd never had a man on his hands that if told to do so would inflict all the torture onto himself. Jeremy wondered how far Sebastian's body would go before it gave up. If he instructed himself to break his fingers would he do so until each one was snapped no matter how painful it was? Or if he asked the boy to nail his own hand to the wall, would he somehow find a way to balance the nail and still hit it with the hammer?

It was all rather intriguing to think about, but looking at the kid again Blaire realised there likely wasn't any need for such dramatics. He'd cracked tougher nuts than this without ever spilling a drop of blood in the past.

Rubbing his hands together Blaire considered once more his options and then smiled widely as the fist idea came to him. No need to pull out the big guns just yet and while he usually had someone else do his dirty work, it had been too long since he'd even had the opportunity to break someone. So many splicers around and not a single one worth a damn in the head. There was no fun to be had in breaking something that had been broken years earlier.

Sebastian provided a rare opportunity and he'd already made a few cracks with his lies. Now just to see what else he could break in the boy.

Baby steps, they had all the time in the world in Rapture. "Sinclair?" Blaire called, watching as the young man's head whipped up. Like a damn dog responding to the call of its master when it hadn't yet figured out if there was punishment involved or not. He had better make it crystal clear to Sebastian that it didn't matter what he came him, a treat or the stick – he was going to thank him for anything he damn well got. "Come here." He instructed, the threat of those three little words joining the order ever present.

The kid knew it too because he forced himself to move. Anything to hold onto some sense of control over his own body. So he'd willingly listen to Blaire's orders, just to avoid making it impossible to disobey. Each step looked like it pained the kid but finally be was standing in front of Blaire, head bowed so he didn't have to look into the face of his master. Blaire let it pass for now, but only because submission looked so lovely on Sebastian.

All those trips to the vita-chambers had left Sebastian with damn near flawless skin. The only blemish on him could be found on his wrists, those charming little chains inked deep into his flesh – marking him before he even knew he was owned. But the rest of him remained scar free. Pale, perfect and wholly unmarked. Now this, Blaire thought with a vicious smile, was a crime.

"Deep breaths now kid," He purred, walking around the other side of his desk to pull out a cigar. No need to stand on ceremony for this. "this is going to sting just a touch. Would you kindly light up that incinerate of yours?" The obedience was to be expected now and Blaire was pleased when the kid's hand exploded into fire. Good start. "A low smolder if you would, Sinclair." Adjusting accordingly Sebastian seemed to struggle to lower the intensity of the plasmid's heat. He'd only ever had to make it more powerful in the past, now he was being forced to curb it.

"That'a boy. Now would you kindly press those hot embers right into your chest." A fleeting look of horror was all Sebastian managed before his body carried out the order. The result was a loud cry of pain and the Sebastian's body curling around his own hand as it scorched his skin.

Blaire let him sweat for a little bit, watching as the fiery fingers pressed too deeply in weak flesh and begin to burn a perfect black outline of Sebastian's hand into himself. "Easy there." Blaire mused, sitting back into his chair, simply keeping an eye on Sebastian's progress. "Don't want you passing out. Ease off. Just enough to sting."

A shuddering breath passed through Sebastian's body, rattling in his chest but full of relief as the abusing heat lessened. His skin turned pink and inflamed where his hand hovered but it was nothing compared to that first burn. From where he sat, lighting up his cigar, Blaire could smell the stench of the kid's flesh smoldering.

Screams became whimpers as this continued and Sebastian ended up bracing himself against Blaire's desk while his other hand continued to singe away the outer layer of his flesh. No longer enough to risk passing out but a constant low burn that left his skin pulsing and vibrating a sickly heat. This kept up for quite some time, Blaire merely watching as the kid did all the work himself. This was hardly torture by any stretch, at least not enough to qualify in his books.

This brat had been built from the ground up for him. He hadn't ordered a weapon that couldn't handle a bit of pain. If he was to get anywhere with this little _discussion_ of theirs – he needed two things. First he had to finish pounding the reality of the situation into Sebastian's thick skull. The fact that he had no choice in the matter, that he belonged to Blaire and secondly he needed the boy to be hurting just a little bit before they really started.

The plan had been to let this go on until Blaire could see Sebastian was about ready to drop. To see how long he could keep up this level of self-harm until his body began to give in. That had been the plan but then the kid happened to glance up at him and Jeremy tensed at the sight. "You and your damn puppy dog eyes…" He muttered under his breath, looking back coldly as he watched the beginnings of tears in those big blue eyes. Alright, he supposed that was enough.

"Stop." He commanded and the relief was palpable in the way Sebastian's body slumped forward, hand wrenching away from his exposed skin the moment he was given the ability to do so. Now both his hands were being used to prop himself up on Blaire's desk, just focusing on pulling even breaths back into his lungs so he really didn't black out. "Lets have a look." Blaire mused standing up and rounding the table, it was satisfying that Sinclair did not immediately try to move away but Blaire was forced to tell him to remain still once the boy realized he intended to touch him. "Easy there." He hushed Sebastian's low whines of complaint as his fingers gingerly pressed against raw skin.

"You do understand this is only happening because you're being stubborn, don't you?" He added, palm pressing flat against Sebastian's stomach, pulling a sharp hiss of pain from the man. "I told you I could be nice, didn't I? But no, for some reason you thought you'd have it better shacking up some sewer rats over me. Shame things turned out this way, could have been much nicer than this."

The words sparked a small sense of irritation in Blaire and so that hand that had pressed against Sebastian's stomach curled inwards letting his nails dig into the boy's body. The resulting cry was not nearly compensation enough for all the trouble he'd caused.

Once he'd allowed the anger take root, it festered inside of Blaire and his temper flared out of control. Grabbing the back of the blonde's head, fingers knotting in his hair; Jeremy slammed the younger man's face down against the desk. Any harder and he was sure the boy's nose would have broken, he considered pulling him back up and throw him down again just to achieve that.

"You enjoy wasting my time?" He snarled angrily, fingers grinding down against the boy's skull. "You think I don't have better things to do besides discipline you?"

The body under his hands shifted. Sebastian let out a low sound of pain, grinding it through his teeth but he didn't stop moving. Not until he was able to glare at Jeremy from the corner of his eye, cringing against the fingers that pressed him down. "If I do?"

Blaire stilled. The words taking a few seconds to mean anything to him, and it took a few more for him to comprehend the fact that his monster was talking back to him with such a sneer in his voice. Oh now _that_ was something. "And here I thought you were all burned out. Still with me, are you, kid?" Despite himself Blaire's face twisted into a feral grin, the fingers around his cigar tightening until he nearly crushed it.

Snubbing it out on Sebastian's side was the most natural thing in the world. Blaire was rewarded with a violent jolt and snarl of pain from the boy. As well as a burn mark that stood out against the inflamed flesh, a single blackened spot to match with the imprint of Sebastian's flaming fingers around his chest. All these little scars he was getting to make.

And tomorrow he would come back clean of every single one. "Can't have that." Blaire uttered under his breath, unconcerned if Sebastian did not understand. "We'll just have to make new ones."

Maybe one of those scars would stick once he was done.


	6. OutShock4

The first time Sebastian tried to escape, he didn't even make it to the door.

All it took was a simple call of, "Would you kindly stop where you are, Sinclair?"

He'd gotten too flighty, too confident. Thought he could be out of the room before Blaire even realised he was going. It had been a split second decision, one made almost entirely out of fear when he saw Blaire reaching for the chains again.

The man's back had been turned and Sebastian was so sure he could just escape. Blaire might have putting orders in place that restricted him from attacking him while he got some things, but he'd said nothing about running. But he hadn't even looked in Sebastian direction before giving the order.

It cost him. Standing there stock-still, unable to do anything as Blaire approached him, chains swinging in his hands and a smile on his face. "Now where did you think you were off to, hmm?" It was only when Blaire rounded Sebastian's statuesque form and grinned that understanding slapped the blonde in the face. Blaire he given him an opening, just to see him try and take it only to have everything snatched back away.

Just to see him squirm.

Watching the horror settle in on Sebastian's face, the monster's smile twisted wider. "Now you're getting it, kid." The cuffs of the chains clicked open and Sebastian flinched. "Down to business. Would you kindly put these on yourself, there's a good freak." He had no choice but to cuff the horrible things around his already bruised wrists, able to feel Blaire's eyes on him through the entire process. Watching as his body twitched and tensed with the effort of following a direct order while the man himself rallied against his internally as best he could.

The result the same as every other day. The cuffs closed with a click.

Miserable and furious Sebastian stared at the cuffs he'd put on himself, chains hanging limp for the time being. "No need to look so gloomy, kid." Blaire laughed, the sound cold and vicious as the master of Rapture pulled those chains tight, jerking Sebastian forward by his wrists and holding him there. "Despite your disobedience, I'm in an appallingly sunny mood. You never know, maybe today you'll be conscious by the time we're done.

He wasn't.

The second time he got into the next room.

But he'd learnt from his first escape attempt. No more easy openings were foolishly taken and this time Sebastian resolved to try and wait Blaire out. The man could get so wrapped up in his own games that he lost track of time. Sebastian had nothing but time to think and plot and what he'd observed in that spare time was Blaire. More accurately, Blaire's habits.

Every hour on the hour he gave a new order. Even if he hadn't been paying attention to Sebastian up until that point. For all the time he spent torturing his property – Blaire didn't spend every spare second dragging screams out of Sebastian. Sometimes he was busy working on…something.

Sebastian was usually ordered to stay still and not make a fuss in those times. He'd be forced to once Blaire used those nasty little words but what Sebastian would take note of as the minutes trickled closer to an hour was Blaire's behaviour once that hour was reached. He'd always give a new order.

Never the same exact words of the original order he'd already given, but something not far from it and this was how Sebastian realized something marvelous – he had a time limit.

It was all guess work, but Sebastian figured it must have been something near to an hour or two before any order was undone. Blaire had not given him a long lasting order since Trager was done pulling his wires. In the past there was no such restraint, any order went, but now he was being careful to stick to mostly immediate.

Burn yourself, close those cuffs, hands above your head, sit and stay – all quick physical actions that Sebastian could complete before the hour was up. So when Blaire sat at his desk, scribbling things down and growling under his breath – usually with Trager's name involved – he would have to renew the order for Sebastian to behave.

But if there was one thing Sebastian could always lord over Blaire, it was patience. He had it in abundance and Blaire…well he was not known for that particular virtue. If any.

So the second escape attempt began not with a bang or a sudden mad rush for the door, but with patience.

He did what little he could to keep Blaire appeased. A difficult task when the man's moods flipped so easily. Sometimes he expected obedience and became enraged when denied it but there were other times where Blaire would be aiming for a reaction. These instances were more difficult to manage, needing to guess what Blaire really wanted when he wouldn't just say it.

However, Sebastian had become something of an expert on the matter.

The result of his efforts, Blaire left him conscious for the day but still growling in frustration. "I swear kid." Blaire snarled at he stalked away from Sebastian, a bit of the blonde's blood being unceremoniously brushed off his cheek with. Blaire glanced at the smear of blood on his thumb and sneered. "What's it been now?" He asked bitterly but when Sebastian didn't answer fast enough he snapped. "If mother goose gave you back a damn voice box could you at least not waste my fucking time and use it when I ask you a question?" He snapped furiously and Sebastian worried he'd return just to kick the shit out of him. To let off steam rather than having any greater purpose.

"Don't know." He mumbled his voice thick with a busted lip oozing blood into his mouth. "Can't tell time anymore."

A lie told for two purposes.

The first it achieved. Sebastian could almost feel how Blaire's mood shifted, smothering the rage that moments earlier threatened to fly out of control. It was scary how attuned he had become to his captors mood swings. "Ah kid, didn't even think about that." He laughed, suddenly back to being amused. "Don't you even know how long you've been here?" The mock sympathy was nearly enough to have Sebastian seeing red.

"Well maybe if you stop being so difficult I'll tell you." Blaire finally announced with a shrug, taking that perceived power of his right back to the desk with him. "Or get you a watch or some shit. Sure one of those splicers got one that still works." He muttered, not actually talking to Sebastian anymore as his attention shifted but not before one final word. "Oh and don't move, would ya kindly."

The second purpose for his lie would only come with time. Which Sebastian was definitely keeping. He could have been counting each individual second he was so fixated on it. The wait was agonizingly slow, not just because he was still bleeding in some places but because he was now hyper aware of every move Blaire made.

Just waiting for the moment Blaire would speak another order, get him stuck for another hour.

But as time ticked forward, Sebastian kept waiting. Every few seconds he'd try to flex his fingers. Just a tiny bit. Anything to tell him he was free to move again. Forty minutes had passed if his attempts at focusing on the minutes were accurate. Still no movement, his body was still being fully compliant.

A further ten minutes. Nothing at all. They were nearing the one hour mark and Sebastian feared that the moment they reached it Blaire would speak again. Glancing cautiously in the man's direction he found Blaire to be deep into whatever it was he was doing. Eyebrows knitted together tightly with a perpetual look of frustration etched into his face.

Briefly Sebastian was distracted, just long enough to wonder what it was Blaire was doing. What prompted such attention and focus from him, Blaire barely even seemed aware of Sebastian's existence at that moment.

Fifty-five minutes passed and finally a twitch.

The tiniest fraction of a movement was shocking to Sebastian. The severity of that little twitch took a moment to settle in. He was free to move. Five minutes before an hour, Sebastian was thrilled. That gave him at least another two minutes to gather his nerves before doing anything.

Sebastian didn't have any weapons on hand. A disadvantage. Blaire was distracted and didn't know he was free to more. A extreme advantage. Additionally Blaire had not locked the doors on his arrival, so confident of his own control. One last advantage. Unfortunately he could also stop Sebastian with three words alone. A pretty plan crushing disadvantage to have stacked against him.

Gnawing on his lip only to be given a painful reminder of his injury in the form of iron in his mouth and sharp sting, Sebastian tried to calculate his chances.

Sebastian wished he was better prepared for this moment. Wished he could have done anything else but hope to make it out of earshot before Blaire caught up with him. But he was stranded between the door and Blaire, about an equal distance between the two. The only thing he had was his own two feet and the chains that lay a small distance away. Sebastian stared at the shackles uncertainly. He knew their weight, having been locked in them so many times before this point.

They were nothing to scoff at.

It was about as shoddy of a plan as he could muster up but there wasn't anything else he could do and admittedly there _was_ something appealing about throwing those chains at the man who forced him to put them on. He needed no more incentive than that.

The scuffling of his sudden lung must have startled Jeremy. He saw the man's head whip up, shocked by the sudden movement but not yet forming any words to respond to the situation with. Frantically Sebastian snatched up the chains; the familiar weight a new comfort to him as he flung them in Blaire's direction in the same movement as he yanked them up off the ground.

As satisfying as it would have been to watch them hit, to see the surprise become pain and then humiliation, Sebastian didn't stay to make sure his aim had been true. No time to check the situation, had to keep moving, trust that he hadn't lost his touch just yet. Although as Sebastian ran for the doors, he did hear something that sounded suspiciously like metal meting with flesh followed by a grunt of pain.

Throwing the doors open Sebastian took the first step out of Blaire's office in over a week and relief washed over him for the brief second he was met with sights he hadn't seen before.

With no time to stop and take them in Sebastian took another running step. He didn't care where he went, just so long as it put some distance between them.

Somewhere behind him he heard a shout of anger. Too far to make out any words – thank god – but still close enough to know he wasn't in the clear just yet. Sebastian took the first corner he found and abruptly came to a shuddering stop.

Bumping headfirst into another body, Sebastian was momentarily startled, stumbling back a few steps only to look up and find Trager's bemused face baring down on him. That expression lasted all of five second before Trager was leering at him, taking a step into the space that Sebastian had backed out of.

"Well aren't you a slippery little buddy." He mused sounding just a little impressed to see Sebastian standing there. While the escapee's heart made an honest to god effort to pound right out of his chest. Behind him he could hear more shouts, not directed at him but promising more punishment should he fail now.

Trager was just one man and Sebastian had killed plenty of others that were likely still better men than him even while spliced all to high hell. With that thought solidifying in his mind Sebastian's eyes set into a cold stare and his hands tightened into fists. Trager, did not seem at all concerned even as the blonde's body coiled tightly a moment before he lashed out, aiming what would have been a bone breaking punch at him.

Would have. It never landed.

Sebastian had hit some ridiculously rough things in his time. Big daddies alone making that list fairly impressive. But he'd never hit an object that did not yield in the slightest, that didn't so much as shudder as his fist connected and he sure as hell had never struck something _invisible_.

The pain came a moment later, the bones in his fist crunching up and pulling through his flesh with a sickening tear. Sebastian screamed, dropping to his knees to cradle his shattered hand. Blood already welling up around the places where his fractures had broken through the flesh.

The punch had promised broken bones; Sebastian just had not expected them all to belong to him.

"Amazing how it works, eh?" Trager asked in a conversationally sunny tone. Towering over the fallen and now opening weeping boy with a grin. His long body craned forward to peer down at the creature at his feet. "Did you forget that, Sebby? None of you little shits can touch me. Got that buried nice and deep in your head, first thing I program into you kids. Ya see, I have no intentions of ending up like every tragic Frankenstein character – dying at the hands of his creation."

Satisfied that Sinclair wasn't going anywhere Trager lent back onto the balls of his feet with a happy humming sound. "Well what are we gunna do with you? Can't have kids misbehaving, so how about this; _let me sell you the dream_."

The reaction was immediate and all consuming. Sebastian buckled forward, a horrendous shrieking sound tearing out of his throat. In the back of his own mind where his higher reasoning had been pushed back to – Sebastian recognized that sound. It was not unlike the piercing cry that Billy had emitted.

He hadn't know…couldn't comprehend that currently that nightmarish howl was coming from _his_ throat.

But for good reason – Sebastian was dying.

At least he thought that it must be death. He'd never been in so much pain. Not through all the torture, no splicer, big daddy's drill or even Billy's monstrous destruction of his body – none of it compared to this feeling. Something had been placed inside his body, against every corner of him. Lined up perfectly with the shape of his skin and from the inside it was stretching. Pushing against his body, forcing organs, muscles, bones, all of it to bend outwards. Pushing and pushing until he knew it would start to break apart. Any second now his skin would give and all his insides would come spewing out across the floor.

Any second now.

Up above the writhing boy on the ground Trager whistled in appreciation. "Always wanted to see what it did to ya, kid. Never got the chance with Mr. killjoy in charge. Riley used to say it was a vice, squeezing around his brain. I thought that was pretty dull. Billy at least said it was melting him. So what about you, Sebby – what did you get from dear ol' Rick?"

No answer, well of course not. The kid was still screaming and finally those dreadful sounds had brought his owner running. "What the fuck are you doing to him, Rick?" Jeremy demanded as he rounded the corner, eyes immediately dropping to the squirming sobbing mess of a boy on the ground. There was panic behind the man's eyes, not knowing what he'd missed in the short time he'd been out of the loop.

"Oh hey Jer! We were just- what happened to your face?" Trager broke off laughing, seeing a rather sizable purple bruise forming above Jeremy's right eye.

Snarling Blaire gingerly touched the area around the bruise, feeling anger boiling away in his gut. Anger he could not currently vent because the object of his frustration looked about three seconds from ripping his own throat out in an attempt to stop whatever it was Trager had done.

"My property." He bit out harshly. Refusing to address Rick's original query. "What are you doing to it?"

"Oh nothing serious." Rick replied with a flippant wave of his hand. "Just a little mental conditioning back from the potty training days. Think's he is dying." Rick snorted in amusement. "Thinks he's being turned inside out I'd wager. It's just a simple trigger phrase."

"The dream?" Blaire asked wryly, less rattled now he understood the situation. "Christ can you stop him from making that racket?" He asked next, that unholy screaming making fast work of a headache. Trager seemed unconcerned, having gotten used to that sound years ago.

"He'll stop soon enough. Billy usually stopped screaming after five minutes, Riley took ten – just matters how long it takes for their brain to start shutting down."

"Shutting down!" Jeremy barked and rushed forward to gather the trembling shrieking kid. Trager did not help, instead watching curiously as his friend's panic returned. He didn't see the big deal. "Rick you moron!" Jeremy snapped over his shoulder. "The kid needs to have access to a vita-chamber."

"And don't he?"

"Not out of my office he doesn't!"

Ah. Yes well that would be a problem. Sighing Rick wandered over to the pair and helped Jeremy pulling the kid up. Thankfully he'd started to quiet down a little bit. As expected, his pain tolerance never had been as high as either of his big brothers.

"So, not that I don't think you have prime planning skills or anything Jer," Trager began slowly, ignoring the foul look the other man sent his way. "But why the lack of vita-chambers for the kid?"

"Would you really want a revival chamber for a murdering machine that you betrayed?" Jeremy countered angrily. "If the kid wanted to come kill me I wasn't giving him an infinite supply of second chances to get the job done."

"But the one in your office…?"

"A new addition." Jeremy shrugged, pulling Sebastian back into the room he'd only minutes ago fled from. "You know I can be a little…lets say overzealous in my questioning methods."

Trager laugher. "How many times you accidentally stop his heart?"

Jeremy hesitated on the answer. "Three." Excluding those few times he'd put a bullet in the kid as something close to a mercy killing. Sometimes he ended it quickly – on a good day.

Again Trager laughed and Blaire tried to ignore how entertained Rick was with all of this.

"Well after today it'll be four I reckon." Rick added and Blaire only glanced down at Sebastian, shivering and whining between the pair of them. It looked like punishment enough to teach the kid his lesson, but then the bruise on his head began to throb and Blaire decided a fourth death might just help the lesson along.

…  
…

Five whole damn days.

Blaire was not a man of extraordinary patience despite having invested in such a long con to begin with. Even someone who was blessed with inhuman levels of patience would have started to crack after they rolled over to day six.

The kid had some resilience that much was clear. He had been built to withstand all kinds of punishment and despite how frustrated Blaire got as each hour crept on by, he did have to hand it to Trager. He made some pretty remarkable monsters.

"Christ kid you are really starting to ware me thin here." Blaire groused as he returned to the penthouse, stepping through the doors to see Sebastian just where he'd been left. Strung up by his wrists, blood caked around his face from where Blaire may have gotten a little too enthusiastic with his use of the wrench.

It just made the kid _shriek_ in such a lovely way. His wrench, his constant in a world that had been nothing but shit to him – and Jeremy used it to beat him.

All the response he got for his words was a slight rising of Sebastian's head and wordless snarl. Impressive he had the voice to even growl with given how much abuse it had taken only two hours earlier.

"Touchy little thing aren't you?" Blaire mused, feeling marginally more composed than he had when he left. Storming out in a fit of rage, all that anger he took out on splicers instead of the kid.

He needed a level head when dealing with Sebastian or they'd be doubling the trips to the vita-chambers and all those careful aches and pains he'd instilled in the boy's body would be wiped away. A clean slate was useful certainly but Blaire needed the kid to remember just how long he could hurt for. To remember that Blaire decided when it ended, not his own body.

"If you'd just listen to me." Blaire insisted again, stepping up to Sebastian so they were nearly toe-to-toe. "If you'd just remember how to listen to orders and do as you're told, this whole thing would be well and truly over by now."

"I tell you this because I _care_ about you kid." Blaire stated, trying not to laugh as the blatant lie in his words brought a little glare out of Sebastian. "There's no need to make this so rough on yourself. I can be nice or I can be hard on you. It's really up to you which and all you gotta do is tell me where the others are. It's not as though they're all that special to you. I mean really, what do you know about them?"

Spinning on the ball of his foot, Blaire began to list off their atrocities, as though Sinclair might have some how forgotten. "One helped cook you up in a lab, another made all the machines that have been shooting holes into you. Even that 'brother' of yours is little more than a stranger to you. They're hardly your friends and it's not like you've never been double-crossed before."

There was that sting again, that look like Sebastian's little world had just been gutted and Blaire wondered if he was on the right path with that line of thought.

"But you and me, kid-"

"Stop."

"-We've been through hell and back together. Didn't I help you whenever you needed me? Who was there with you every step of the way? It sure as hell wasn't Murkoff or the Parks."

"I said fucking stop!" Sebastian screamed for a moment Blaire was genuinely surprised by the outburst.

Turning back to look at the younger man Blaire was momentarily at a loss for exactly what to say. Seeing the kid standing there shaking from head to toe with rage. He hadn't expected such ferocity from the meek slip of a thing. But gradually his surprise melted away into something fouler, a cold smirk resting on his face.

"Oh?" He watched at the blonde's muscles tightened up, panic setting in as he realised his mistake. "Does something about that bother you, kid?"

"No, wait. Don't-"

It was too late for that. He'd exposed his underbelly, a weak spot for Blaire to sink his fangs into. Granted he had plenty of those, but this one…oh this one was so sad it was actually hilarious.

Stepping forward into the kid's space once again, Blaire took one look at the chains around Sebastian's wrists and undid them. At first Sebastian crumpled to the floor, legs having gone numb an hour before Blaire had shown up and still dizzy with blood loss. But being the wonderful crafted monster he was, Sebastian was back to his feet a moment later – looking ready to flee. There was a new found urgency behind his eyes. Because he knew what Blaire had in mind and was likely more afraid of that than any blade or burn.

Unfortunately Blaire was at his physical peak while as Sebastian had hit something of a low point and it took little effort to trap him. Still Sebastian tried to step away, only to find the sharp edge of Blaire's desk digging harshly into his spine. Like a skittish animal that had been cornered Sebastian looked desperately between Blaire and any potential escape route. He knew better than to try but his instincts to just run were nearly overpowering.

With no where left to go Sebastian looked up at Blaire's face, eyes begging when his tongue refused to do so. _Please_ , they seemed to say. _Please don't use this against me._

Oh but he fully intended to. The boy's pathetic staring igniting what had previously only been a smoldering need to use this particular weapon.

Sebastian felt the shift before the first word even left the man's mouth, felt the change between a man like Blaire and a lie like Atlas. "You alright there, boyo?" The lie asked and Sebastian flinched in response. "Not looking too good right now, got me a little worried."

"Shut up…" Came the pitiful words. Being slurred under Sebastian's breath.

It was wrong the way those words and that voice slipped into his head and took up residency. Tugging open wounds that were still too fresh while simultaneously encouraging that foolish little part of Sebastian that wanted to believe it was real again. That desperately wanted his friend back, a friend that had never existed.

In a desperate attempt to escape in what small way he could Sebastian squeezed his eyes shut, angling his head away from Blaire. Reminding himself over and over again who it was. That this was just another little power play, something to further tear Sebastian's heart apart. That was all. This was no kindness.

"Come on." Atla—no. _No_. It was Blaire. Always Blaire behind that voice. Even if it hadn't been Sebastian should have thought of Miles. Put truth to the name, but his mind refused to make the connection. Instead it clung like a greedy child to a fantasy. "Don't be like that." The gentle voice continued, deceptive in its kindness. "After all this time I thought you'd be happy to see me. After all we've been through together."

Sebastian snapped, arms coming up to shove the man away from him frantically. What shocked him was that it worked. Alarmed he looked up, stunned to see the dark haired man had stumbled back a few steps, a look of hurt etched onto his face.

He…he couldn't shove Blaire could he? That wasn't something he'd be able to do was it? Confused Sebastian looked down at his hands. Surely Blaire was untouchable with all the control he had over Sebastian…so how had he…?

"Boyo…?" A pained voice this time and Sebastian's head snapped up to look at the speaker again. Not sure he'd ever heard that accented voice sound so upset. Not angry, just sad. "I…kid, I'm sorry I just thought that we were…" Trailing off with a look of grief damn near ripped what was left of Sebastian's heart out of his chest.

"No I-!" Sebastian stopped, tongue heavy in his mouth. This was wrong, why was he upset. This wasn't real, but he was struggling to remember that. "I didn't mean it…I just. Oh god…" He moaned, hands flying up to his head as if he could somehow force his own mind to settle on one reality. Either this was real or it wasn't, he couldn't keep slipping between the two.

"Hey, it's alright." There was Atlas's voice again, just as understanding as it had always been. "You're a wee bit stressed, no one can blame you for that down here. Come 'ere, kid."

Perhaps it was how his mind was wired, or maybe during all their messing around Trager or Lisa had knocked too many screws loose – but it was too easy for the illusion to solidify and become truth again. Sebastian sank into the offered comfort, going limp in Blai— _Atlas's_ arms.

"There you are, boyo." Atlas crooned, running his fingers through Sebastian's blood caked hair.

For a moment there was no more pain. Just the comfort of firm arms around his shoulders and the warmth of friend's kindness to lean into. For a time Sebastian wasn't scared or angry, he wasn't even aching anymore. Just because Atlas was there and he wasn't upset with him.

Then there was Atlas's voice and every sweet word was one he had needed. "Been such a good boy for me, done everything I asked. Worked so hard for me." Each word of praise warmed his chest and Sebastian was melting in the man's arms, just wanting to hear more. Wanting to be told all those nice things until the rest of the world dropped away from him.

He was barely even aware of it when Atlas pressed him back against the desk, urging Sebastian back until he was seated atop of the wooden counter. Whose desk Sebastian did not even attempt to think about, mind actively working to not remember the truth. "Do ya trust me, boyo?" Atlas asked him, voice hushed against his ear and wordlessly Sebastian nodded. Speaking somehow felt unusual when he was listening to Atlas.

Chuckling in response Atlas drew away from Sebastian a bit, much to the man's dismay. "You trust me." He repeated, no longer asking a question and then Atlas urged Sebastian's chin up with the tips of his fingers. "Do you want me as well?"

This time the answer did not come immediately. Sebastian's breath caught in his throat and once the meaning of Atlas's question sank in, all the blood rushed to his cheeks. Turning the pale skinned man a vibrant red in the face. This coaxed another happy laugh from Atlas who took it as encouragement enough, leaning into Sebastian's space so their foreheads nearly touched. "Say it." He urged, voice kept low and rough, and exactly what Sebastian needed without even knowing it.

"Please." The word came out so small that it was nearly inaudible.

"If you want something, you have to ask for it don't you?" Atlas watched Sebastian squirm, embarrassed but still left wanting things he didn't know how to ask for. To his credit, he tried all the same.

"I want you." He whispered and as if he knew that Atlas would not accept such a pitiful attempt he quickly went on. "Please touch me, I just want you to—I want you… _ah."_ The requirements had been met and Sebastian jolted when Atlas's hands pushed their way up under his hoodie and shirt, dragging the material out of the way as he exposed Sebastian's skin to the cold air.

The touches were just what could be expected of Atlas. Gentle but attentive, overwhelming in the way he made quick work of Sebastian's clothes and set to work laying his hands on every inch of the blonde's body. He uncovered sensitive spots that Sebastian had not known he even had, one in particular at the base of his neck that when only touched lightly by Atlas's fingers dragged a low whine from his throat.

"There?" Atlas's voice was teasing and Sebastian felt the man smirking against his neck before laying a quick bite down on that same place. This time Sebastian arched up into Atlas with a moan that was just short of wonton. "Yeah." Atlas chuckled. "Right there." He breathed out in a low satisfied rumble.

" _Christ_ , don't you paint a pretty picture." For a moment the haze in Sebastian's head faded, something about those words…about that tone. It set off alarm bells but before he could think anymore of it, he felt Atlas's hand wrap around his cock. The initial contact, the first Sebastian had ever felt, pulled another strangled sound out of him and Sebastian curled meekly around Atlas's arm, clinging to him for support.

Atlas was torturous with his gentle treatment, stroking the poor man's length agonizingly slowly and Sebastian was giving him the most adorable little sounds as reward. "Please, please…" He mewled out, twisting and shivering under even the slightest of attentions.

While Sebastian came apart under Atlas's hand, a second touched against his chest sending sharp jolts of pleasure up his spine as Atlas toyed with his body. It was almost embarrassingly easy, pulling the boy apart. But there was more he wanted than just this. "Paying attention?" He murmured, getting a shaking nod from Sebastian who was only just coherent enough to answer that much. "Good boy. Now open your mouth for me."

There was only the slightest hesitation, but it was enough. Sebastian cried out more loudly, muscles pulling taut under his skin as Atlas fisted his length more roughly. Not going so far as to be painful, but enough to prompt a reaction out of Sebastian who opened his mouth and didn't try to bite when Atlas pushed two fingers inside.

Atlas tasted of blood and smoke, the taste all too familiar to Sebastian at this point and dragging a series of soft whimpers out of the back of his throat. There was nothing delicate about this, Atlas pressed into Sebastian's body, hands making a mess of the boy while he struggled to keep up. The older man's fingers were rough in his mouth, nothing shot of fucking the mouth of the pliant boy under him with his fingers.

He might have continued this for longer than was necessary, just enjoying the expression on Sebastian's face. One of complete surrender and just a little bit of fear, it was enchanting. Knowing that he was being pushed to limits he didn't even know he had and still didn't put up any resistance, taking everything Atlas gave him. Then finally he retracted the fingers and Sebastian was left feeling a little lost. "Atlas?" He whined uncertainly as the other man dragged his pants down, pushing them aside as quickly as he had the hoodie and shirt.

"Hush lad." Atlas quieted him quickly. "You'll like this next part, swear on my pride." There was still doubt and Sebastian let out a small yelp of alarm as he felt Atlas's fingers, still wet, pressing against his hole. Atlas hushed any complaints or concerns with a rough stroke of Sebastian's cock, pulling a groan from the blonde as he pressed the first finger into his body.

Impatience was clear in Atlas's movements, but he took time preparing Sebastian. Allowing him time to get used to the feeling of something being inside of him before gingerly adding the second finger. With both fingers pushing inside of him, Atlas became a less lenient. Focused on his job of stretching Sebastian as well as keeping a careful watch on the boy's limit, any time he got a little too excited his hand would still and squeeze around Sebastian's length. Pulling him back down before he could find his release. After those moments Atlas would offer a silence apology, sweeping his thumb across the head of Sebastian's dick, never failing to cause the boy to shudder happily at the attention.

Sebastian was making more noises now, likely not even aware of it himself. The unfamiliar burn gradually faded as Atlas's fingers continued to pump inside of him. Then Atlas's fingers brushed that little spot inside of Sebastian that he'd been looking for. The reaction was immediate, Sebastian's back arched violently and he let out a moan of pleasure.

"So damn pretty when you do that." Atlas growled above him, accent thick and lowering into a deep rumble that did things that it just shouldn't' have to Sebastian. It was torture, having found his weakness Atlas relentlessly exploited it. Every brush of his fingers against that little bundle of nerves sending Sebastian into near hysterics. Before long he was clinging to Atlas sobbing for something. For anything. He needed things he didn't even know how to put into words.

Then Atlas was pulling his fingers out of Sebastian's body, causing him to whimper at the loss. Immediately feeling the fool for missing the feeling, worse feeling embarrassed for being so obvious about his desire. "Don't fuss, boyo." Atlas purred, his hands coming to rest on Sebastian's sides, digging his fingers into the dips in his hips. "Just trust me."

He clung to those words, nodding meekly as his legs trembled, pushed wide to accommodate Atlas between them. He tried to keep taking deep breaths at he felt Atlas pushing against him. "You're too tense." The older man hissed out in frustration. " _Relax_." His response was nearly the opposite, fingers digging into Atlas's shoulders. "Ha…you are impossible kid." Atlas groused, an edge of amusement to the words as he slowed down. Taking his time pushing inside of Sebastian. He was more than willing, it was just a matter of letting his body adjust to the intrusion.

It was a near impossible ask to move slowly when Sebastian's body was so hot around him, a stark contrast to his icy hands, but Atlas managed. But patience had not been his strongest suit and before long he found his limit. "Sorry, boyo." He muttered, catching Sebastian's mouth in a rough kiss as his hips snapped forward, burying himself inside of the younger man who let out a little scream that Atlas swallowed up.

The kid writhed under him and Atlas had to tighten his grasp on Sebastian's hips to keep him in place. That apology given, he felt less inclined to move slowly, setting a harsh pace that had Sebastian gasping just to breath. For just a second Atlas paused, looking down at his partner for any sign that the kid was actually going to pass out on him. What he got instead was Sebastian's legs winding around his waist, pulling him closer.

"Fuck, kid," Atlas groaned, his voice choked and wavering for just a moment. He looked down at Sebastian like he was something beautiful and just waiting to be fucked in unconsciousness. "Such a good boy, letting me ruin you." Now satisfied that Sebastian was screaming purely out of pleasure Atlas set a vicious pace, driving inside of the moaning mess of a man under him mercilessly.

Atlas hissed as Sebastian's fingers caught in his hair and decided he had to do something about those hands. Gathering the younger man's wrists into one large hand Atlas pushed them up above his head, hips rolling into Sebastian with bruising force. He squirmed, twisting his hands in Atlas's hold but didn't manage to so much as budge an inch.

"Come on kid, let me hear you." Atlas demanded, the hand not pinning Sebastian down pressed against his cheek. "I want to hear you begging for me, fucking screaming for me by the time I through with you. Let me hear exactly who owns you."

Oh and wasn't it lovely when he immediately started babbling. A series of 'please' and 'oh god's falling from the kids lips as he cried out mindlessly under Atlas. That was what he wanted to hear, the kid a sobbing mess under him. "Such a good boy." Atlas hissed again, his grasp of Sebastian's wrists tightening until it was near bruising. "Never going to let you get away, kid. You belong to _me_."

Those words, something in them was different. Sparked a little bit of recognition in Sebastian's hazy head. But not enough to properly break through everything else. He was too far-gone for that, still moaning out a babble of.

Even if he could have placed what was wrong with the words, Atlas was dragging against his prostate with every thrust, driving his sense right out of his head.

He was going to go completely insane, body coiling tight with the rising need to come. Atlas could feel him shivering, hear the way his words began to fall apart into a near unintelligible garble of moans and pleas. Knowing he was close, the man pushed harder – chasing after that pleasure before he brought it all crashing down around them.

But then clarity came back to him with three little words. "Oh fuck kid, would you kindly remember _exactly_ who you're with and scream for me?"

Just like that the dream was over. Sebastian heard _Blaire's_ cold laughter, not a trace of Atlas's sweet voice to be heard in the vicious sound. "J-Jeremy you fuckin-oh _fuck_!" He did scream, wishing it had been a scream of agony or anger, but instead he cried out in a sound that was nothing short of shameless.

Blaire's hand curled under Sebastian's back as he arched up, fitting nicely into the space he carved out for him. Fucking him through his peak and finding his own only a few thrusts later. Blaire rode out his finish inside of Sebastian, watching as the man slowly came down from his high, no longer looking like he was on cloud nine but no less fucked out. He continued moving in slow shallow thrusts inside of Sebastian, watching as he became over stimulated, tears he'd managed to mostly keep at bay until now slipping out.

"Look at you." Blaire laughed coldly. "Fucking made for me weren't you? Screaming my name so prettily while you came."

Oh he was crying now in earnest. Glaring at Blaire through his tears. The sight only prompted the older man to sneer down at him. "Just a little bit a ' _wee ol' Atlas'_ voice and you're putty in my hands. It's be sad if it weren't' so funny. Think you've gotten the idea yet, Sinclair?" He asked wickedly. "Or should I make it more obvious for you?"

"I'll fucking kill you!" Sebastian spat furiously, biting out the words past his tears. His voice was thick with them. "You bastard, you absolute fucking bastard!"

"Oh, if that isn't the cutest thing you've ever said." Squeezing Sebastian's wrists tighter Blaire smiled down at him, watching as the humiliation and pain warred inside the young man. And to think he'd been in such a bad mood earlier that day.

Sebastian bore his teeth as him and Blaire knew he'd bite if given the chance. Again the word 'cute' came to mind. "Too bad, for you kid." Blaire drawled grinning down at Sebastian. "You belong to me."

…  
…

He'd smoked maybe…shit what was this? His third in the hour?

Growling under his breath Blaire tried not to think about anything. If he couldn't let his mind go blank then he could at least think about anything else besides the warm body curled up in his office. Christ he'd only pulled out the Atlas voice to fuck with the kid a little bit.

Not as in…not actually fucking… _shit_.

"Why so glum chum?" His bad mood worsened as Trager's cheery voice appeared by his side. He'd kept the doctor close on hand since getting ahold of his ace in the hole again. Trager didn't look a gift horse in the mouth, at Blaire's side he was well provided, protected and above all else – entertained.

"Not exactly the afterglow of a well fucked out man." He noted and Blaire slammed his glass of scotch down on the desk, scowling viciously at Trager. Except as his hand rest on the wooden surface memories flashed straight back through his head. The thought of the kid's face twisted in pleasure, crying out for more even though he was a prisoner. Shit…

The scotch was downed in one fell swoop and Trager whistled low in appreciation. "Damn buddy, trying to get buzzed or put yourself in a shallow grave? Only type 'round here unless you prefer a floating funeral."

"Shut up, Rick." Blaire snarled, almost surprised by how rough his voice was. Not expecting himself to sound as vicious as he felt.

Trager only sneered back in his direction. "You have a customer complaint?" He prodded and Blaire wished he could put a bullet in the man's head. Would have too if he weren't' the only other sane person without a hundred mile fucking radius.

No. He didn't.

Despite the little set back the kid was still something of a god send. Mostly still obedient and definitely no disappointment in the department of pleasure. That might just have been the problem, he couldn't shake the memories of the night before from his mind.

Even if it was Atlas the kid was reaching for…god damn it.

"Trager." Blaire muttered darkly. "How far reaching is the blank slate command?" Trager was rightfully surprised by this.

"You want to wipe the kid? Jeez, Jer I've heard of some nasty break ups but that's pretty extreme." He was joking but the longer Blaire remained stonily silent, the more of Rick's teasing mood died. "Blank slate is still in effect. You tell him the dates, hell you tell him the subject – it'll be wiped. But Jeremy you go for the full command, no restrictions. It all goes. Every little thought he's ever had. You'd have to build him back up if you want to keep him – seems like a hassle."

Or it could be perfect. Just what he needed. Wipe Atlas from the kids mind, wipe Rapture, Murkoff – fucking everything right out of his head. Reprogram him with whatever he wanted. He'd have to teach him new lies, come up with another con, but it would be better than…whatever this was surely.

"How long would it take?"

Trager watched his long time employer, sometimes enemy and always friend with a guarded look. Trager was never a kind man, but there were moments where he almost considered being so. Just for Jeremy. In the end he let his friend make his own mistakes and see how it played out.

"Almost immediate. Careful with those commands Jeremy, some aren't so easy to undo."

…  
…

Twice more Sebastian tried to escape. Twice more he managed to fail.

The third time he made the mistake of attacking Blaire outright. That attempt lasted all of one minute before Sebastian was back on the ground, Blaire above him with nothing to show for his efforts besides having irritated his owner. It was his temper that did him in on that occasion.

By the fourth time Sebastian made it to the elevator, the one he'd seen back when he still had Lisa in his ear and freedom in his bones. The problem with this one came naturally; he did not know the code. Sebastian found himself faced with Blaire again and this time the man had been amused. Mocking his relentlessly about his failed attempts. But his good mood had done nothing to stop the resulting punishment. The fourth time it had been his lack of knowledge that failed him.

It had been quite some time since Sebastian last attempted escape and when he tried for the fifth and final time, Sebastian nearly made it to the pearly gates.

With no weapons to speak of, not a drop of EVE in his veins and still left sore and bruised from Blaire's latest attempt at torturing information out of him – Sebastian was pleased that he'd managed to even get to his feet. He knew from the moment his consciousness returned to him that today would be another escape attempt. There was no great fire behind this decision, Sebastian simply opened his eyes and felt the weight of the knowledge that today was the day sinking into him.

Sitting up slowly Sebastian looked around the room, half expecting to see Blaire there. But instead the room was vacant of all life besides himself. Outside the city of Rapture was still glowing and Sebastian took a moment to just stare at it. So pretty on the outside, so decayed inwardly. Sebastian smiled sadly at the thought, wondering if that's what Blaire meant whenever he'd make comment on how pretty he was.

Setting aside the thought Sebastian slowly gathered himself to his feet, now assured that Blaire was not present. It had not been encouraging when he picked himself up off the floor and found that even that small task had become something of a trial.

If Trager was thorough with him mentally than he'd only followed to match how thorough Blaire was with his body.

The process took time and Sebastian used what limited amount he had of it to make sure nothing was well and truly broken. What he found was maybe a fractured rib and at least two bones snapped in his left hand where Blaire's boot had come down over top them. More aches than he could count and a wide assortment of different coloured bruises and abrasions littered across his body. But for the most part he was functioning.

 _Outstanding_.

Once up on his feet Sebastian made for the desk at the furthermost point of the office. His eyes paused on the vita-chamber he saw glowing tucked away in a room to the left of Blaire's desk. He'd come out of that a number of times already but he knew this particular vita-chamber to be faulty. Blaire was more sparing with it then he clearly would have liked to be, but given it's limited range he wasn't sure if he could fully trust it. Sebastian had even caught him talking to Trager about it once, about getting a better one put in.

Sebastian could only hope that didn't happen.

Turning his eyes away from the glow of the chamber Sebastian instead set his sights on the desk. He'd long since given up doing anything with the doors out of Blaire's office. They weren't going to budge any time soon. Everything in Rapture had been built to last and someone like Blaire built things to be sturdy, his paranoia not at all misplaced.

Those doors didn't have wood that would splitter under enough force or hinges that would give away with a strong enough kick. If he wanted to get them open Sebastian had to wait for someone else to open them and the only person that ever seemed to come in or out of Blaire's office was the man himself.

Usually not allowing much of a window of opportunity for Sebastian to do a damn thing. Most often because the man in question was bound up tight in chains or still unconscious wherever Blaire had let him drop. Until of course that ill fated escape attempt some time earlier. Now the doors were always locked regardless of if Blaire was present or not.

There was so little left in the office to use. It was void or any EVE hypos which was what Sebastian truly wanted, but it did supply a number of makeshift weapons.

He knew this because half the things at had one point or another been thrown at him or used when Blaire's mood was particularly creative. Sebastian knew his head had been adjusted slightly more than just the return of the WYK command. He wasn't positive he'd actually be able to kill Blaire, not sure if Trager's failsafes for that kind of behaviour would kick in or not. Sebastian wasn't willing to try his luck, it could cause him to freeze up and he'd end up right back where he started.

As such he didn't need anything threatening, just potentially lethal if given enough effort. Blaire did have a rather lovely collection of letter openers at his desk. More than sharp enough to cut someone's throat. He'd demonstrated as such around day three of Sebastian's imprisonment. Although the blond had the distinct impression that Blaire had just been showing off his favourite toys to his _other_ favourite toy.

However, he had not expected to be offered a choice of quite so many letter openers. Exactly how many letters had Blaire ever actually opened with these? Sebastian mulled the thought over for a second, images of Jeremy and the knife like contraptions coming to mind. No. He decided flatly. He'd probably jammed these into people's necks more often than he'd ever actually used them to open letters.

Yes, that mental image was much more fitting of the man. Briefly Gluskin's comment about dancing with the devil came to mind. Except Sebastian wasn't so much dancing as he was being slowly and systematically outmaneuvered. Backed into a corner, no escape options in sight, with the devil bearing down on him.

One last time. Sebastian vowed to himself, fingers closing tight over the sharpest and longest of Blaire's knives parading as letter openers.

With a cautious glance back at the vita-chamber Sebastian moved away from the desk. It was a ridiculous notion but Sebastian felt as though that chamber was somehow watching him. Judging him for what he intended to do.

Distantly Sebastian recalled Blaire and Trager talking about the office and the range of the chamber. Blaire had been quite upset at the time, angry that Trager had risked killing Sebastian for real because he was outside of the office. Now clearly Sebastian could not leave through the doors, but he knew another place.

Blaire, for all his cruelties, had never been restrictive with bathroom rights. He had plenty of ways of humiliating and hurting Sebastian without going down that path. As such the little bathroom set aside from the rest of the office was always available to Sebastian.

Stepping inside he felt a little out of place. The bathroom was about as appealing as the rest of the underwater city, leaky and beginning to gather mold – but as far as a place like Rapture went, it was a considerable improvement to the norm. It lacked corpses and all the bloodstains had been cleared away at some point. Making it far more tollerable than most places in the city.

It almost made Sebastian shudder imagining the mess he would be leaving behind. If there were a cleaner way of doing this he'd take it in a heartbeat, but admittedly there was a sort of charm to the drama of this whole thing as well. For all his wishes to not leave behind a mess, Sebastian had to confess that a small vindictive part of himself that wanted to know just how horrible the sight could get.

After all if this was to be the last time he died, might as well make it memorable, right?

The press of the cold metal in his palm was no comfort and Sebastian felt as though his skin was failing to warm it. If he'd handed it to someone else, someone that was still a human – someone that had been born like a normal person – would it have warmed more quickly? Curiosity played in the back of Sebastian's mind as his ran his thumb across the edge of the blade. It easily broke through the outer layer of skin, not enough to draw blood but more than enough to truly reassure Sebastian it could get the job done.

This one was sharp enough.

Slowly Sebastian eased his back against the far wall of the bathroom. Placing himself as physically far away from the office as he could. This was the furthest most point that he could get without trying to escape through the front doors again. This was truly the best he could do and if it still wasn't enough…he'd have to turn to more desperate measures.

Sebastian laughed, the sound painfully dragging out of his throat, lacking even a drop of warmth. More desperate than this? He must be insane, seemed about time he snapped.

"How do I…" Sebastian idly ran the sharp metal over his wrist, wondering if that would work. No, he decided feebly. He'd taken hits worse than that and dragged himself through it. Needed to be more final than that, needed to be the kind of wound even his body couldn't come back from.

Next he rose the blade to his chest, both hands clutching the handle, pressing it through the fabric of his shirt. This too felt too flimsy, if he miscalculated and managed to miss his heart, Sebastian would have to stab again and again till he found it. That fueled into the thought of mess he'd make. The result would be bloody, no need to make the act itself equally messy.

And so finally the sharp tip of the knife came to rest against his neck, pushing promisingly against the dip in his throat. For a moment that was all it did and Sebastian found himself staring up at the ceiling.

Was this…was this wrong of him? He wondered miserably, guilt pooling in his gut and bringing a little tremor to his previously steady hands. The pain he was well adjusted to, he was not afraid of the string that death brought with it – no matter how permanent he intended this time to be. But he was afraid of what he left behind.

Would they know? Was there anyway his cowardice would make it back to his brother and the others? That small hesitation, the one fueled by his guilt continued to still his hands. Weren't they enough, wasn't the mere fact he had family out there enough to keep him fighting? Was this small act of selfishness too much?

But the knife felt so sturdy between his shaking fingers. Felt like salvation, just a little bit of force and it could save him. It would be his final act of freedom.

Even if it were to be one made out of desperation – it would be his.

Tightening his fingers around the handle of the knife, Sebastian closed his eyes tight. Prayed that those few he cared about would never know the truth of it, let them think some other force had killed him. Let them think him a failure or a weakness – but do not let them know the coward he was.

The first cut of the blade across his throat nearly startled Sebastian out of the action. Too slow his hands had moved, the puncture too shallow and already stinging as flesh parted away under the sharp edge of his chosen weapon. Couldn't stop now. The first roll of blood down his neck was hot, burning a path as it dribbled from the wound, only to be joined quickly by plenty more as Sebastian pushed in deeper.

Faster now, he could not finish it in one quick stab as he would have liked, dragged to much for that and so as the metal entered the side of his throat, Sebastian pulled. Jerked across, trying to drag it further along his throat – to empty himself onto the ground.

It was thick, horrible, hot and glue like now. Sebastian choked, the iron taste racing up into his mouth and he knew the moment he'd cut deep enough because suddenly he was drowning. The blood rushing down his severed windpipe. He was to die choking on his own blood and Sebastian could only feel the vaguest sense of disgust as he hacked up a glob of thick red blood. The horrible splat it made hitting the white tiles bellow echoing in his head.

He was sure his mind was beginning to shut down, pain and lack of oxygen quickly taking its toll. He tried to remain calm, remember that this was all what he wanted, this was fine…but he couldn't breath. Natural survival instinct kicked in and he began to desperately try to breath only to swallow down more lungful's of the liquid he'd been so intent on spilling.

Beyond his gagging, there was the sound of a door being flung open. The force of the action so violent that had he been more focused on that noise as opposed to the choked gurgle bubbling out of throat, Sebastian would have realised the door had been broken.

"Kid!" That voice broke through all the sounds of his own dying more easily than the knife had his throat. Sebastian's fingers were drenched in blood, buried in his own neck in some primal attempt to hold it together as he suffocated when he looked up at the source of…everything.

Blaire stood in the doorway, eyes wide with a look that Sebastian could only describe as horrified. Funny, he'd never seen a look like that on the devil's face before. Were he not positive it was the last thing he'd ever see and were he physically able, Sebastian might have laughed.

"Fuck, _fuck_!" Blaire broke out of his momentary stillness, rushing into the room, grabbing at Sebastian's shoulders. The letter opener he'd used clattered to the ground, knocked clean out of his hand as a near afterthought by the older man. "You piece of shi—God damn it, what did you do!?" Blaire was shouting at him, hands prying away Sebastian's fingers only to be shown the exposed flesh inside of Sebastian's throat and realise the extent of the damage.

"You're not leaving me, kid."

Sebastian did nothing to stop Blaire when he pulled one of limp arms over his shoulders, hoisting him up quickly and dragging him away from that little spot on the floor he'd deemed fit to soak in blood. He couldn't have stopped Blaire even if his mind recognized what he was doing. Had he understood, Sebastian still might not have fought back, fear of death suddenly very real in his mind.

The moment his limp body passed between the threshold of Blaire's office it was as though something in his body clicked. It died more quickly now, his blood getting everywhere. With his eyes only just managing to remain half open he could see the red beginning to stain Jeremy's clothes. Right down to the white undershirt he wore. It really was getting everywhere, marking everything.

When he'd first arrived in Rapture he'd been unable to believe the sheer amount of blood. He'd died plenty of times out there, but he'd never watched himself gushing blood like this, usually dead before he hit the ground. Now he saw just how much was inside of him and understood.

Blaire did not stop until he had Sebastian standing under the glow of the vita chamber. Even then he was not satisfied until he'd hauled the dying boy's body inside and shut the doors tight. It was only here that the man was confident enough to stop, feeling that this was the best he could possibly do to assure that Sinclair's stunt bore no fruit.

Sebastian's body had already given up trying to stay alive. That instinct to survive draining out of it once the vita-chamber was near enough. After all that was not really death. It gave in and allowed the chamber to do its work.

When the last threads of consciousness left him there was a gap between his body failing and being restarted again, fresh and without the injuries he'd purposefully inflicted upon himself. That gap was the closest to a real death Sebastian might ever come and when it faded, leaving him slowly blinking back into life. The young freak could not figure out if he felt a great deal of loss or relief knowing that he was not going to simply blink out of existence today.

He was unsure, up until the exact moment his vision cleared and he saw Blaire standing outside the chamber.

Blood soaked and disheveled from the effort of dragging what was nearly his corpse to the chamber – Blaire looked about as terrifying as he ever had, staring at Sebastian with that murderous expression.

There was no putting off the inevitable. The doors slid open of their own accord, giving Sebastian no time to steel himself for what was to come. He knew pain; he'd put a knife in his throat with only slight difficulty. But there was simple pain, and then there was Jeremy Blaire, and Blaire terrified Sebastian.

With the doors open and nowhere to go but out Sebastian slowly eased his body up off the back of the chamber, eyes fixed on his captor and now unfortunate savior anxiously.

"Would you kindly stay exactly where you fucking are." The words came quietly, little more than a hiss and Sebastian's body immediately fell back into the chamber. Obedient as ever even while his mind rebelled in the small ways it could. "I'm feeling particularly cross with you right now, Sinclair." The man continued on, tone not changing in the slightest. Too calm, too flat – not at all what Sebastian had grown accustomed to. At least anger he could expect, but this quiet was of speaking was sending shivers of dread down his spine. Blaire was never so calm with him.

"So, you're going to be a good little freak and answer everything I ask with the upmost honesty, _would you kindly_?"

The hesitation of confirmation was far too long and abruptly the Blaire he knew returned. "I asked you a question you little shit." He snapped viciously, jarring Sebastian into reality again.

"Yes." The word came out automatically. This scared Sebastian more than any physical harm could, because suddenly everything he'd ever thought was going to be laid bare. He couldn't stop himself from speaking the truth if he tried and if Blaire asked the right questions…

"Oh no, no, no, kid." Blaire chuckled coldly, eyes narrowed on Sebastian. "Not nearly good enough. Would ya kindly remember your fucking manners and try again."

"Yes, sir."

"Better." The snarl behind Blaire's words failed to make it seem so. "So tell me Sinclair, what exactly were you trying to do?"

"Kill myself." The answer came so immediately and earnestly that even though Sebastian knew it himself, he cringed under the truth of it. He saw Blaire's eyes harden and the fixed smile on his face twitched slightly.

"Why?" He continued to ask, the question posed in a near pleasant tone.

"B-Blaire, please I…"

"That's not a fucking answer. I believe my words were the 'upmost honesty' or do I need to add immediately onto that order?"

"No, sir." The words were bubbling up. He could almost feel them physically worming their way into his mouth and never had Sebastian wished more dearly that he was mute again.

If he could he would have ripped out his own tongue just to stop this. He thought about biting through the fleshy muscle but knew he'd be unable to do it. Even if he were successful his body was still surrounded by the vita-chamber, it would be a momentary set back before Blaire had him perfectly capable of speaking again and he would have done nothing except further agitated the man that held his chain.

There was nothing he could do but listen in horror as the words fell out of his mouth. "I wanted to escape." He murmured pathetically. "Wanted to make a decision all on my own." Then there came the bitter honesty he wished could be smothered in the back of his mind. "I wanted to do something that wasn't programed into me by Lisa or Trager. Wanted to do something without someone else telling me from some fucking radio to do it. I wanted it to be _me_ behind the wheel just _once_ in my entire miserable fucking life and you ruined it! You god damn ruined it and I-!" Choking back the words Sebastian desperately tried to silence himself before he could go and say something worse. But it burned, keeping the words in was nearly as suffocating as his own had been while it pouring down his throat. He'd not been ordered to speak constantly, but the truth that he'd been asked for was fighting to get out all the same.

"Oh, would you listen to that. That right there is repressed bitterness, isn't it?" Blaire purred, tone appreciative. "Not nearly as sweet as we pretend to be are we, freak?"

That was a question. Honesty must be provided.

"Saintly face…just on the surface." He echoed another's words, eyes dropping to the ground as the truth of that madman's comments truly sunk in. Sebastian had wanted to be a good man, to be a kind man – but wherever he went he soaked the world in blood. Be it on Blaire's command or even by the instruction of allies.

Sebastian nearly choked all over again when the man's hand shot forward, taking him by the throat and jamming him back against the chamber wall. Forcing his gaze upward Blaire's fingers dug painfully into his neck, pulling for a phantom pain of the blade sinking past his jugular and spinning his blood. But this time there was no blood, just Blaire's fingers and his burning eyes. This was far worse.

"I'm getting real tired of giving you chances, Sinclair." As Blaire sighed Sebastian heard the sound of a gun being cocked and jumped in alarm. So rarely did Blaire bring out his pistol. Normally it was reserved for the days where he'd grown bored of Sebastian's screaming or was feeling particularly merciful – using it as a tool of execution. Seeing it now only meant one thing and given his current position Sebastian was not optimistic of his chances.

"So, here's how it's going to go kid. I'm going to ask you a real simple question and you're going to answer yes or no. Understood? Ah, you're smart enough to understand this aren't you? Let's go right ahead."

The cold muzzle of the gun pressed gently against the center of Sebastian's head, right between his eyes. Beyond the barrel of the gun Sebastian could just see Blaire's lips moving to form the question.

"You want to die, kid?"

"Ye-"

 _BANG_

Sebastian's body fell limp back into the chamber, blood spraying out across the glass as the bullet lodged itself neatly into his skull, killing the trapped man near instantly.

He came back almost as quickly. Gasping awake just in time to see Blaire spinning the cylinder of the gun with an idle smile on his face. "Right, round two."

Realization sank in and Sebastian tried to scramble back, only for his fingers to be met with the slick sensation of his own blood as it cooled against the glass behind him. Blaire stood at the only exit, gun in hand and cold grin fixed on his face. Trapped with no way out, he was always trapped and as always Blaire advanced on him in the same way a predator would some poor wounded prey. Not an immediate kill, oh no, it had time to waste on this one. Why not play with its food a little first?

"Well?" He asked, the gun sliding up under his chin this time. Pressing into the weak flesh under Sebastian's jaw promisingly. "Your answer, kid? No lies now."

He tried to hold the word in. Tried to burry it deep inside of him. Clenched his jaw until he was sure it would snap but no matter what he did the force of Blaire's command gradually pushed it out. The single admittance wiggled its way free in a brief whisper and then the echo of the gun ringing out shot through Sebastian's ears just before he was to die again. It was worse than the first, Sebastian knew that with each kill it would be worse. The vita-chamber was nothing short of miraculous in its function, but a machine could be pushed to its limits and with Sebastian dying so suddenly and in close proximity to the last – some things had to be sacrificed to bring him back still breathing.

Things like a quick death or the numbing of pain. Sebastian felt the initial jolt of the bullet as it tore through his jaw, shooting straight up through the roof of his mouth and jerking his entire body back with the force of it. He felt that and then there was death, sharp and unwelcoming before he was spat back out, gasping and shaking like a leaf.

But there Blaire was, still waiting, the smoking gun clutched tightly in his hand. "Third times the charm." He suggested casually and Sebastian could only stare at him in horror. Blaire's response was to chuckle cruelly and pull the gun back up in the helpless man's direction. "We can stop any time you like, kid. All ya gotta do if change your tune."

He couldn't.

He couldn't and his sincerity with every answering yes got him another bullet.

His blood painted the inside of the vita-chamber before long and Sebastian was beginning to lose count. He tried to focus on the number but his mind was starting to shut down. He hadn't been pushed to such extreme lengths with the vita-chamber since Billy and shredded him time and time again.

In one instance after he was dragged back to the living world, screaming and gagging on the very air he tried to breath, Sebastian had fallen to his knees and tried desperately to escape the little chamber.

"What?" Blaire sneered, hand reaching down to snare Sebastian by the hair as he tried to crawl out of reach. The resulting scream of pain did nothing to stop the older man. Instead the moment Sebastian's mouth was open the barrel of the gun was slipped past his lips, jammed uncomfortably into his mouth. "This is what you wanted wasn't it, freak?" Blaire snapped viciously as Sebastian squirmed desperately. "Answer me, you want to die?"

Shaking his head Sebastian tried frantically to escape only to have the weapon forced deeper into his mouth. He could taste the gunpowder on it as well as his own blood, the metal still hot from where it had last been fired. Sebastian tried to say no, tried to stop this from going on but…

Be honest, be honest, _be hones_ —

The muffled yes never got all the way out before the bullet was ripping its way through the flesh of his throat, out through the back of his head. This was slower than the others, Sebastian did not immediately die. It took his brain about a whole minutes to properly shut down and he couldn't tell how much time it was between his death and reanimation.

But when he did come back around Blaire was still there, gun in hand and being reloaded.

"Please." Sebastian cried out before another question could be asked of him. He could feel his brain turning to mush between his ears, becoming nothing but a mess of static, disorganized thoughts and desperate pleas for this to end. It was that desire that kept the word 'yes' pushing off his tongue every time Blaire asked. Because he so desperately wanted it to end, in any way it could. "Please stop! I'm sorry, I promise I'm sorry so please."

This was not enough for Blaire. Sebastian saw the anger that had been so dearly lacking until now, flash across the man's face before his shoe came crashing into Sebastian's cheek, knocking him clean onto the floor of the chamber. It was sopping wet with his blood and as Sebastian forced a shaking breath into his lungs, he swore he could see parts of flesh and bone mixed in with the horrible concoction, nearly forcing him to throw up. But then Blaire was back, demanding his attention.

"You still want to die?" Blaire snarled, foot pressing down against the back of Sebastian's head. Forcing his skull into the ground, grinding roughly as the man under him screamed louder. "Well? I can fucking provide you with death if that's what you damn well want. How many times do you want me to put you back in this chamber, huh? You think I can't find new, creative ways to stop your stupid little heart in your fragile goddamn chest? Want to put that to the test, Sebastian!?"

Sobbing into the floor Sebastian's words began to pour out again. "Please, please, please, _I'm sorry_."

"Really?" Blaire breathed, tone one of mockery. "Are you now, Sebastian? Forgive me if I don't fucking believe that."

"I can't lie to you!" Sebastian screamed back desperately. "Y-You told me to be honest. I'm sorry! Ple—just please stop. I'm so sorry, oh god please."

There was only a moment of thought. Blaire considered this, knowing that Sebastian was still very much under the effect of his command. Slowly his shoe lifted up off of the sobbing man's head. "You're one lucky son of a bitch." He informed Sebastian coldly. "If you didn't make that banshee wail I would use Trager's little trigger phrase. I'm sure you haven't forgotten _the dream_."

Sebastian's breath caught painfully in his throat. The bullets tore life away from him in one bloody, horrible moment, but that trigger phrase could leave him writhing on the floor in agony for hours, causing no real physical damage to his body. Blaire watched as the fear gradually carved itself into ever corner of Sebastian's face and then let out a small satisfied laugh. "That's what I thought." Reaching forward he was met with a violent flinch but Sebastian did nothing to try and get away. A satisfactory response in itself.

Instead of running he sat there in a pool of his own blood, trembling from head to toe and staring up at Blaire with big scared eyes. "Now, I am going to ask you once more." Blaire began slowly and he felt Sebastian going taunt under his fingers. "And you'll still be honest with me, won't you." Not a real question, they both knew the answer.

"Is death really what you want the most?"

There was a hesitation and Blaire very nearly spoke the words before getting a verbal answer from Sebastian. "No."

That single word stopped both Blaire and Sebastian in an instant. The pair just as surprised as one another to hear it finally said out loud. Then after the surprise settled, a slow grin spread across Blaire's face. "And they say you can't teach old dogs new tricks." He mused, more than pleased with finally getting the answer he'd wanted. "Just takes a few bullets to do it."

Satisfied with that Blaire straightened back up and turned away from Sebastian. That little episode had chewed up a considerable amount of time and despite having finally gotten his way, the sight of the bathroom door out of the corner of his eye was enough to get Blaire irritated all over again.

He did not expect to return home to a bathroom of blood and the kid sitting there with a fucking letter opener of all things in his stupid little hands. Trying to kill himself. Trying to _leave_ him. Blaire had just hammered in a very important lesson, but he thought there were at least a few more issues they'd need to teach out of the freak. Beat out of him if need be.

His mood had just started to shift onto the next lesson when Sebastian's broken little voice unexpected sounded out again.

"What I want the most is for you to love me…"

Blaire stopped cold. "What did you say?" He asked slowly, turning to look back at the mess of a boy kneeling by his feet.

Sebastian had dragged himself upright again, feebly wiping blood away only to smear it on the back of his hand. There was no part of him that was not bloody despite being physically perfect after his final exit from the vita-chamber. But now the blood seemed trivial, Sebastian looked far more scared of the words he currently spoke than any physical harm that might befall him. The tears that should have slowed now that the punishment had ended only started to grow heavier, falling drop after drop from his eyes.

"I said, what I wouldn't give for you to love me." Sebastian whispered, staring up at Blaire past all his tears. The world was nothing but a watery mess from his perspective and no matter how many fat tears burned their way down his cheeks, it just wouldn't clear up. Each word was a new stab to his chest, each something he couldn't take back or refute within the privacy of his own mind. "I wish you'd love me…I want it more than I want freedom, or the surface, or revenge. I just want…one good fucking thing and I thought…I _thought_ it was Atlas."

He couldn't bite down the words and with them there came a pitiful sob. The force of which shook his chest as Sebastian began to cry harder with every shuddering breath he let slip out. "But it's just you. It's. Just. _You_. And there's nothing I can do about it, I can't go back to the lie, I can't leave this hell – you won't even let me die. I just…oh god—Oh god I just want something! Anything at all!"

"Why did you make me like this!" Sebastian finally snapped, screaming past the unrelenting torrent of tears. "Why did you make me to be such a freak!? Why did you have to pretend to be someone like Atlas? Why couldn't you have just been cruel from the start? Why… _why_ …" The words dissolved into nothing more than a few hiccups and heaving sobs. Occasionally the word why would still slip out, mingling with everything else.

It was only once the words dissolved into nothing more than weeping that Blaire became aware of the fact he hadn't moved so much as an inch since Sebastian's initial outburst. Very slowly he unlocked each of his muscles and approached the crying man. He expected Sebastian to recoil but instead he only continued to cry as Blaire took to one knee in front of him.

Sebastian was staring at the ground, letting his tears leak out. Each drop collecting at the corners of his eyes before falling to join the rest on the ground. There was already so much blood; the small gathering of tears did little more than merge with the world of red they fell into.

He offered up no resistance as Blaire cupped chin, urging Sebastian to meet his gaze. It was a deeply helpless look in Sebastian's watery eyes and while Blaire's malicious nature gave a shiver of delight at seeing it, outwardly he remained impassive. Unable to truly enjoy the kids surrender the way he ought to.

"I'm going to tell you something Sinclair." He began calmly, words capturing the weeping man's attention fully. "I am going to say something to you and then you will forget it. You will remember everything except what I do in the next two minutes – obey me, would you kindly?" He waited, watched as the little clogs inside Sebastian's mind worked around the order. It was always interesting to observe as the kid's mind altered itself to fit to a new order and once Blaire was positive it had set in, he leant in closing the small distance remaining between them.

It was testament to how broken Sebastian was that he didn't try to pull away despite everything. Instead the moment Blaire's lips touched his own, Sebastian melted into him. Trembling fingers racing up to clutch at his sleeve as Sinclair returned the kiss with a kind of desperation that just couldn't be faked. Jeremy didn't give in to the temptation to just claim the kid right then and there, Sebastian wouldn't protest if he just kept taking, but not this time. Instead the kiss was kept gentle, fleeting and it finished just as quickly as it had started.

Jeremy placed a hand flat against Sebastian's chest, stopping him from seeking out any more tenderness once Blaire moved away. Those blue eyes were begging him not to, baring themselves to him just on the slim chance he'd take mercy on Sebastian and offer up a little more gentleness. How starved for affection did you have to be…? Blaire decided not to think about that too deeply.

"The truth, kid?" Jeremy murmured, voice barely rising above a whisper. His eyes stayed fixed of Sebastian's face, watching for the reaction to his admission. "The truth is you can't leave me. I don't think I can do this if I don't have you."

Each word hung too heavy. Each one a truth Blaire would have rather buried. He wondered if this is what it had felt like while Sebastian was under the command to be honest. Every syllable a challenge he would have abandoned if he didn't think the effort of not saying them wouldn't have torn him apart eventually. There was no shame in him, no remorse for the monster he was. Blaire had long since spurned the mere idea that he could feel guilt. For every tear and drop of blood he'd pulled out of Sebastian, he was not sorry. For every lie he'd told – the kind and the cruel – he was never sorry. That was the great truth of who he was. The way he kept sane in a world gone to hell.

At least it had been but now the kid was here, and broken as he was, Sebastian was still something solid to anchor himself to when everything else threatened to just float away with the rest of Rapture's wreckage. "I think I'd lose it if I didn't have you, kid." Jeremy repeated with a frustrated sigh. "I need you here. Right here, where I can see you."

Those big tearful eyes were clear now. Sebastian was staring up at him, unblinking and looking like a damn child. The heavy balls of salt water that had been pouring from his eyes now only came every few seconds, the occasional roll of moisture down the well worn paths his waterworks had left behind. But Sebastian seemed unaware of the few remaining tears. Instead he was staring at Jeremy like something from a whole other planet.

"Rapture is going to hell. Just the way it is, those splicers out there are going to ruin the place more than what they already have. Everything is going to collapse around us if I don't do _something_ and I can't do anything if I don't have you here to ground me." Blaire laughed at the fragile state of it all. Laughed at himself for being so pathetic as to need anything or anyone. He never had in the past, but in the past the world hadn't been full of splicers and little demon girls. In the past he'd had other constants to ground him. Now there was only one and it kept trying to _run away_ from him.

"I don't care what I have to use. If I have to remind you every day that you were made just for me. That I bought you. That I am the one that gave a shit about you when Wernicke and the entirety of Murkoff would have seen you snuffed out before you took your first steps. I don't care if I have to spend the rest of my natural life beating this lesson into you over and over again. You're staying with me." It most certainly wasn't guilt that well up hot and disgusting in his throat after those words. But it was something equally damning and Blaire then added more quietly, while there was still time left on that two minutes.

"But I don't want to Sebastian. I am a monster, really I am. So I'll do whatever I have to do but…I'd rather you didn't make me do this anymore. Maybe I'll tell you that when you'll remember…doubt you'd believe me of course."

Then there was fear of a whole different kind showing up on the kid's face. "You told me to forget…no, no. Don't make me forget this!" He begged, fingers tightening in the fabric of Jeremy's sleeves. "Please don't make me forget this, Jeremy!"

Smiling Blaire only chuckled lightly and ran his fingers through Sinclair's blood matted hair. Drawing the terrified kid into something like a hug with one arm hooked around the back of his head, holding him gently against his chest. "Sorry, kid." He mused sounding like he almost meant it that time. "Can't have you thinking I'm human."

"But you are!" Sebastian protested and Jeremy could actually feel the crying beginning to wind up again. "You're just a person too!"

"Nah, kid." Jeremy smiled, closing his eyes as he focused on the way Sebastian trembled under his fingers. Focused on how he didn't immediately try to leap away from him despite all the abuse he'd been put through. Just…focused on how inexcusably ridiculous, insane, stupid, irrational, perfect his Sinclair was. "Not even a little bit."

The two minutes was up and Sebastian gave another little sob before the memory began to erase itself. Blaire waited until a look of confusion fell over Sebastian's face. He looked up in alarm, not knowing how he and Blaire had gotten so close but before the panic could set in Blaire gave one last order.

The kindest of the night.

"Sleep well, would you kindly?"

…  
…

It had been well over two weeks now. No progress and Blaire had very nearly stopped asking.

It had just rolled over into night. Difficult to tell when the sun seemed to exist in a whole other world. Somewhere far above their heads. A place like heaven now Blaire thought about it. How funny, in an attempt to reach Utopia they had carved out a perfect little hell for themselves with heaven residing far about. Not in the clouds, but on solid land where the sun still shone. But despite this, day and night did still exist in Rapture. It was manufactured, the lights responded to the time of day, burning brightest when the sun should have been baring down on them from above and then nearly dying as the darkest hours of the night crept it.

This was one of the few pieces of sanity left in Rapture and Blaire took some solace in the darkness that the nighttime hours brought. The lights in his office set to dim as the twilight hours crept in. But outside there was still light. The water shone with the glow of the city and Blaire found himself staring at it more frequently than he ought to.

Because Rapture was beautiful. Even now it was crumbling right before their eyes, the remains of Murkoff's dream gradually decaying as they watched with indifference. But for those few moments of stillness, where the lights of the city still struggled on despite the disrepair – it was beautiful.

Disgusting and rotted from the inside, but a glowing shell outwardly. Had Blaire been a bit more a poetic man there may have been something to be said about the people that inhabited this city. Humans did have a habit of reflecting themselves in their environments.

But as he was not prone to that kind of poetry – leaving it to Trager's rants or at worst Gluskin's ramblings – Blaire only watched the city collapse.

The sight stretched out across the glass that separated them from the icy grip of the ocean's depths, sending scattered beams of light into Blaire's office. It was almost nice he reflected, taking a drag of his cigar before letting the cloud of smoke into the air. It felt like home, as much as anywhere in Rapture could. Then again, it was all his now, rightfully he could step foot in any part of Rapture and feel just at home.

Yet Blaire didn't have any desire to leave the penthouse. He didn't even have a desire to leave that spot in front of the glass. Sitting comfortably, the edge of a blanket dragged unceremoniously across his lap, a cigar in his hand and a warm body not too far from him. This was about as close to contentment as someone got in Rapture. Secure, in control and powerful.

Then there was a quiet shuffling behind him and Blaire's attention broke away from the cityscape to look over his shoulder. The kid was moving again, likely not out of any conscious thought, but simply because the blood that had dried on his skin, molding him to the sheets, had become too great a discomfort to ignore. Although Blaire thought himself rather charitable to have given the kid anything soft to pass out on at all this time. He sure as hell did not have to provide the makeshift bed by the window, but admittedly it worked in his favour more than it did Sinclair's.

Not a moment later there came the telltale groan of pain and Blaire huffed in amusement.

"Quit squirming." He instructed carelessly reaching back to push Sebastian's head back down onto the pillow. The boy went with little complaint, his body wasn't up to offering any resistance and his mind wouldn't be far behind it. Going limp under Jeremy's hand Sebastian mumbled something into the pillow. Another swear if he were to guess. He'd picked up quite the limited, but vicious, vocabulary in his limited time being able to use his voice.

"A real darn shame that Trager couldn't fix up your vocal controls." Blaire mused aloud. Recalling with fondness the time he'd been able to strip Sebastian of his voice and memory all those weeks ago. It felt like a life time had passed from that day, Blaire certainly felt older. Although perhaps that had to do with finally shrugging off that Atlas persona.

This got a proper reaction for the kid and Blaire got to see him forcing his head up out of the mass of filthy blankets just to stare daggers at him. Something in Blaire's sneer softened and he reached back a second this time fingers brushing across Sebastian's bruised face. "There you are." He murmured, voice hushed. Any louder and it would have been out of place in the darkness of their manufactured night.

Expectedly Sebastian flinched away from Blaire's fingers, having become used to receiving punishment from them after each refusal to speak. Somewhere along the way Blaire very nearly stopped caring about the question he'd asked Sinclair. Sometimes his mood was just dark enough that he wouldn't have stopped even if Sebastian had spat out everything he'd ever wanted to hear. Then there were other times where his mood would be good enough that even Sebastian's now familiar tight lipped attitude was only call for light bruising.

Today was neither of these types of day. Jeremy wasn't quite sure how to place his mood. All this time wasted on the brat had him feeling the need to punish him a little more but he was not quite angry. It may have just been his exhaustion catching up to him.

Having spent the last hour sitting there staring at the underwater lights might have soothed his nerves. Although Jeremy was not above thinking that his last round having the kid beaten to unconsciousness might have contributed to his mellowed out state.

Gradually Sebastian opened his eyes, confused when the hand against his face did not immediately grab him or turn harsh. Tentatively he glanced up at Blaire again. Those blue eyes widened when he found Blaire looking at him with an expression he'd never actually seen on the man's face before. Blaire had studied him before, had sneered and mocked him with his eyes. He'd been furious and gleeful in equal measures, confidence, frustration, boredom, amusement – all that Sebastian had come to recognize easily. This near blank look was nothing familiar to him.

On that night he simply craned Sebastian's head up until his neck began to ache and his shoulders shook with the simple effort of holding that position. Refusing to break it for fear of prompting Blaire's ire. The man simply looked at his face, the dim glow of the smoldering end of the cigar reflecting in the boy's large eyes as he stared up at his keeper without a word.

When there were so many things left to be afraid of, the unknown left Sebastian with the deepest chill.

With a quiet sigh Blaire shifted, looking away from Sebastian to finish with his cigar. It was almost tradition that whenever he finished with one of the dreadful things it could be put out against Sebastian's skin. Usually his spine just so Blaire could see him arch back against it in that way he liked. But today he merely tossed it aside, well out of reach of the nest and Sebastian.

This ought to have been Sebastian's first clue that things were to be different tonight.

"Initiate…" Blaire began and Sebastian's eyes shot wide, recognizing that tone. He was about to be given an order. Not another code to stop his heart, not another kindly word to strip himself of his freewill. Blaire had something new and he was frightened. The man hesitated, eyebrows furrowing in frustration as he continued to stare at the blonde's terrified eyes. "Initiate Blank S—shit kid stop staring at me like that. I'm not going to hurt you for christ's sake!" He snapped, unable to stand Sebastian's stare for another second.

"Shocking as it might be to believe, I am actually doing you a damn favour just this once." Blaire told his roughly, hands firm on the kid's shoulders. "So stop looking at me like I have a gun to your head."

Sebastian couldn't stop wearing the expression, couldn't even pinpoint exactly what it was about his eyes that was bothering Blaire. He was scared; scared of Blaire's orders, of the monster he was, of so many things. No more orders, no more little tricks or lies. If his reality had to boil down to this hell and Blaire was the truth to Atlas's lie, Sebastian was ready to accept that.

"Do you know what I thought when I followed Atlas's voice?" He asked in a hushed voice and Blaire went still this time. In all the hours he'd spent pulling screams and curses from that voice, he had never been spoken to like this before. "Whenever I thought it was too much, or that there was no coming back – I just thought of a kindness. I intended to use that kindness for Atlas, to stay his hand from killing Wernicke in a rage." An unspoken accusation sat beyond those words but Blaire couldn't conjure up any other emotion surrounding Wernicke's death besides glee.

"But Atlas doesn't exist and so there's no one to give that one kindness to." Sebastian whispered, moving forward and for some unholy reason Blaire allowed himself to be pushed back until the two of them were eye level on the bloodied sheets. "It's just you." Sebastian murmured, looking curiously at Blaire. "Just you and this hell."

"Rapture is a place where kindness dies, kid." Blaire sneered but did not raise his voice. "It's about time you realised things like kindness or compassion has no fucking place down here. It's just ambition, greed and desire. It's good business."

"I don't believe that."

"Don't matter what you think." Blaire spat. "You're something Trager cooked up in a test tube and I bought. As far as you are concerned, only my opinions matter – you're no real boy, Sinclair."

"Fine." Sebastian replied flatly. "Prove yourself right and don't do me that favour." His final words wavered slightly, fearing what that 'favour' might have really been. But his words had stopped Blaire for the time being, his attention shifting from the subject of Sinclair's existence to the fact Sinclair was currently existing.

Returning his gaze to Sebastian, Blaire moved so that his body faced Sebastian, sitting half on the nest with one arm propped up on his knee. "Are you going to give me trouble?" He asked quietly.

That questioning seeming strange to Sebastian who knew that Blaire could command him to kill himself at any moment and he'd have no choice but to obey. It seemed the only thing he couldn't get Sebastian to do was act in any way that put his friends in harms way. Something Sebastian thought Lisa might have programed into him when he was unconscious. Were he not so painfully grateful for that mental block he might have felt disturbed by that thought.

But Blaire was watching him, awaiting an answer despite this and when Sebastian thought he could trust his own words, he answered. "Don't I always?" Wrong answer, but one he couldn't help giving.

In response an icy smile crossed Blaire's face but the fingers curled against his face did not become abusive. Instead Blaire pushed forward, coming up onto his knees while his approached forced Sebastian to pull himself back onto his hind haunches, staring at the silent man questioningly not brave enough to ask outright what he was doing.

For a moment the older man only stared at him, searching for something in his face. Previously he'd been looking for signs of him cracking, looking for a willingness to talk that never came. But now Sebastian didn't know what Blaire wanted and that was terrifying. If he didn't know what he wanted he didn't know what to deny or give him to avoid further punishment but also cling onto what little freewill he had.

Swiftly Blaire's eyes dropped down to Sebastian's exposed chest. Bruises and fading wounds marking up preciously perfect pale skin. But what drew his attention was the erratic intake of breath through Sebastian's body, moving forward again Jeremy's hand pressed against the younger man's chest. Drawing out a shuddering breath from Sebastian and then a held breath as he waited for pain that didn't come.

Instead Jeremy's hand stilled and he waited, taking in the pattern of the kid's pounding heart. Faster than it had been in those few moments where Blaire's fingers tightened around Sebastian's neck and he could catch the boy's quickened pulse. So much faster and if it was possibly Jeremy thought it might even be heavier.

Uncertainly Sebastian's gaze flicked between Blaire and his hand, asking what was going on with his eyes. Vulnerability he hadn't seen on the kid's face since Trager first trapped him on his face. Something in Blaire responded to that expression. Pushing against Sebastian's chest he brought the boy up then a little further onto his backside as Blaire placed himself over him.

Sitting stiff as a board Sebastian did nothing to stop Blaire as he knelt between his legs, smirking at him as he felt the rapid pace of his heart. "You'd think I was hurting you, kid." He mused, rapping a knuckle gently against Sebastian's chest in time with each frantic beat of his heart. "Don't you trust me?"

No answer needed. Sebastian's little scowl was enough. Leaning in Blaire's fingers curled under Sebastian's chip, keeping the man's eyes on him. "Good boy." A quiet breath before taking what space remained between them, pressing a deceptively gentle kiss against Sebastian's lips. The chasteness of the contact was fleeting, a small break and the pair met one another eyes, and if there was something sweet in that gaze there it was quickly chased away.

Blaire pushed forward, capturing Sebastian's lips again. Rougher this time, searing as he demanded more and more. All of which Sebastian gave up, letting him take and take – because it didn't hurt. Sebastian was forced back, needing to steady himself with one hand while the other griped as Blaire's sleeve tightly.

When the kiss broke a second time Jeremy's attention turned to what little of Sebastian's skin remained unmarked by him. The bruises in the shapes of his fingers had grown faint around the blonde's throat and Jeremy endeavored to replace them with the marks left by his teeth. Across his throat, down to his shoulder but not before finding that small place were Sebastian's neck and shoulder met that turned the kid into a trembling puddle under his attentions.

It was only when Sebastian let out a sound he tried desperately to choke off that was nearly a whine of pleasure which Blaire just wasn't going to let go, that the weapon of choice came out. "Now, boyo, would ya kindly tell me…" Atlas's voice came out of Blaire's mouth. The order never finished rolling off his tongue in the Irish lit because Sebastian went still as a statue under his hands. He expected some retaliation, some type of fight to come out of the boy, not for Sebastian's arms to loop around his neck.

"Don't." He whispered under his breath. "Don't be him right now."

Made curious by his request, Blaire paused, glancing down at the kid as he waited stiff as a board and terrified that the lie would continue. "Why not?" He asked, not yet abandoning the voice of Atlas. Knowing what it did to Sebastian. "Don't it make this easier for you? Isn't this mighty kind of me?"

Just as he'd not expected the boy to cling to him, Blaire was not prepared for the kiss that Sebastian surged up to give him. The sheer force behind the desperate kiss momentarily throwing Jeremy off his game. Thought of mocking and using the Atlas persona dropped out of his mind for a moment as he instead returned all the heat that Sebastian was giving him and then some.

Pressing back against the lithe body Sebastian offered up to him, Jeremy's fingers skirted down over his chest, feeling the injuries he'd inflicted there with a shiver of delight. Him. He'd left those marks. Not some rouge splicer. Not even the lie that was Atlas. No, he'd been the one to do it and Sinclair was likely to remember that as long as he had them.

Holding back was hard as hell and so Jeremy stopped. He left Sebastian's mouth with one last bite at the young man's lips before traveling down to his chest, leaving new imprints of his teeth along Sebastian's torso as he did. Each new bite pulled a sharp sound out of the blonde's throat, not all of it sounding terribly pained.

Weak fingers tangled in Jeremy's hair but even without a direct order to keep from fighting back Sebastian made no attempts to push Blaire away from him. Instead there was a hitch in his breath and a shiver through his spine when Jeremy's attentions moved further south.

He hadn't dressed since the last disagreement they'd had, leaving Blaire free access to the kid's body once he stripped away the only piece of fabric between them. Sebastian let out a small hiss as Blaire dragged his pants down, but did nothing to try and stop him. Unsurprising given the attention Blaire was giving him. "Bloody virginal, aren't you?" Blaire chuckled, fingers teasingly brushing over Sebastian's thighs, taunting in how close they were to what he really wanted.

If he had the patience for it, Blaire would have kept him there. Never quite touching, always just holding the promise of pleasure over the kid's head till he was nothing but a bawling mess at his feet. "Maybe next time." Blaire promised himself, cutting Sebastian some slack.

Sebastian hissed in a sharp breath, tensing under Blaire's hand and keeping his own hands firmly by his sides. Afraid that he'd somehow do something wrong if he tried to reach out and bury his fingers in Blaire's hair. It was not fair how easily Blaire was able to play him, a breath caught in his throat as he made the mistake of watching the older man swallow him down. Covering his mouth Sebastian couldn't stop watching and then Blaire's caught him staring. The punishment came quickly, a warning nip across the side of his length.

"You…!" Sebastian began to hiss but the insult died on the tip of his tongue a Blaire's ran over the head of his dick, pulling an entirely different cry from his lips. Effectively silenced Sebastian didn't try to speak again. He couldn't even be mortified by his own reaction, too wrapped up in the way Blaire undid him with ease.

With a small whine Sebastian's hips stuttered forward, he tried not to move not wanting to risk upsetting Blaire by stepping outside of his bounds but this seemed to be exactly what the man was aiming for. His attentions becoming more focused as his hand began working the base of Sebastian's cock. Finding himself feeling completely surrounded by Blaire Sebastian let out a little cry that was supposed to be a warning, Blaire got the idea.

He released Sebastian too suddenly and Sebastian nearly sobbed at the loss. He wanted to grab Blaire and push back into the heat his mouth. It was only the fact he caught Blaire's eye and saw the satisfied glint there that kept him still. Knowing Blaire would have marveled at that level of desperation. Seeing how miserable Sebastian was, teetering on the edge and silently begging Blaire to release him, the man grinned. His hand still tight around Sebastian's poor abandoned hardness, keeping him grounded an unable to finish.

"The things I do for you, kid." He chuckled, glancing up again to take in Sebastian's expression. He was watching him, face a soft red dusting his cheeks. Against the glow of the ocean lights the kid's face was positively glowing. Oh Christ…forget the snarls and glares – that look right there was euphoric.

"The things I do _to_ you…" Growling quietly Blaire reached up, just to watch how Sebastian cringed initially only to give in and lean into the touch. "Aren't you just a sin." He muttered, almost unable to believe how badly the kid could want even the slightest bit of comfort.

Following the path of his hand, Blaire caught Sebastian in another kiss. It wasn't biting like the last or chaste as the first. Lingering just in the middle, pushing deeper, demanding more but allowing for the other man to offer up things to take first. Sebastian obliged, as inexperienced as he was, he still knew to allow Blaire access to his mouth and positively melted under the other man's tongue. Something he knew should be convinced as disgusting but he couldn't bring himself to push the other man out. Instead he crumbled and allowed Blaire to control the kiss.

Breaking the kiss Jeremy stared at the kid's face, and Sebastian was taken aback by the ferocity behind his eyes. He might have questioned what was going on in his head but Blaire had his thumb pressed against his lower lip, holding his silence like one would a key to a door. "Never going to let you get away, kid. You know that don't you?"

"I know." Sebastian whispered. He'd accepted that Blaire was never going to willingly loosen the leash around his throat. "But I'm not going to let you keep me either."

This brought a wide grin back to Blaire's face. A smarter man would have ordered that disobedience out of their tool, but without it what fun would Sebastian be? "Look forward to it, kid." Blaire said, pressing a hand flat against Sebastian's chest urging him back down into the sheets. "But for now, stay right where you are."

And he did. No WYK command needed. Sebastian simply stayed where he'd been places, watching Blaire with wary eyes before the man's hand was on his body again, pulling his attention back down to how painfully close he'd been only moments ago.

As Blaire pushed Sebastian's body into position, settling himself between the boys thin, pale legs he paused for just a moment. "Sure you don't want to reconsider my offer, boyo?" He asked, in a voice that wasn't his own, just watching for the reaction.

At first there was pain. Betrayal still too fresh a wound. Then came sadness and anger, mixing together to result in a wretched expression before finally Sebastian's arms lifted from his sides and Blaire expected to need a kindly word to tell the boy not to attempt hurting him. Instead of an attack, Sebastian's fingers brushed past his face, curling in his hair gently. "Don't you dare." He whispered with such ferocity that Blaire had to grin.

"Not today then." He conceded, dropping the adopted accent. He could see the anger in Sebastian's eyes, the unspoken 'never again' singing in those blue eyes. But Blaire knew a good weapon when he found it. He could lord the sweet lie over Sebastian forever but for right now it was just Jeremy that hovered over his creation.

A monster he'd made, a prisoner he kept with an invisible leash. Something that was _his_.

This time when Blaire worked Sebastian open with his fingers, the boy was more receptive. He'd expected more resistance now that his little Irish fantasy had shattered but instead Sebastian was writhing against the sheets, fingers clutching them in tight little fists. Occasionally his eyes would slip back open, half lidded and staring at Jeremy. It…honestly did not look that different from the way he stared at Atlas.

Too quickly he was pushing three fingers inside of Sebastian. The blond jerked with a cry of pain and alarm, one hand flying down to grab Jeremy's wrist, but he didn't pull. Just vocalized his pleas for gentleness without words. "Relax." Jeremy hissed, very nearly adding those three little words. But no, he wanted to control Sebastian without them as best he could. "You'll love it in just a moment."

He didn't believe Jeremy but the moment his fingers dragged across that wonderful little spot nestled inside of his body, Sebastian was gasping out. High and breathy – completely shameless and Jeremy smiled in response. Too easy, such a responsive body.

Soon he was twitching and bucking up into Jeremy's hand desperate for just a little more fiction. Jeremy was happy to supply him with that more. Hoisting Sebastian's legs up onto his shoulders Blaire released himself form the confines of his suit, having become painfully hard watching Sebastian surrendering to him and moaning like a common whore. No. Jeremy's mind rejected that comparison internally. Sebastian was just his, no one else would ever see this.

Sebastian cried out when his body was breeched by Jeremy. But he didn't ask for slowness, didn't beg that he be given a moment to adjust. Instead he reached up desperate for more skin to hold against himself. Jeremy hesitated, not yet fully sheathed inside of that pliant, willing body but already feeling himself shuddering. Had to be careful, move slowly or it would end too soon. This little moment of sweetness would slip away.

At first he was not compliant with Sebastian's physical pleas. Instead he rocked his hips forward, dragging new gasps and pants from Sebastian's lips. But finally he couldn't' stand not having what he needed. "J-Jeremy…please!" He gasped and it felt as though he was only seconds away from just gripping the older man and pulling him down by force.

"You're being greedy, pet." Jeremy replied but his voice held none of the malice it should have. Instead it sounded damn near affectionate. This was his pet monster, begging for him. Just him.

That was his own name that came out of Sebastian's tongue with every pant. Not Atlas, just Jeremy. Until he'd heard it, Blaire hadn't known he'd wanted it as badly as he did. The force of his thrusts became rougher, pushing Sebastian harder into the ground and pulling a few screams from the young man. Not one of only pain.

"Beg me." Jeremy hissed out. Grinding his hips against Sebastian's bruised body. "I want to hear you begging for it."

He had not expected how readily Sebastian did beg. "I-I want…god Blaire please I want you to touch me. Just…please, please hold me." Not nearly as dirty as Jeremy liked it but that voice was so sweet, crying out around unshed tears for just a little bit of affection.

For the brief second that Blaire stopped moving Sebastian looked lost but then he was taken up by his shoulders, pulled upwards until he was half sitting, half kneeling in Blaire's lap. At this new angel Sebastian got what he wanted, Blaire's hands on his body, mouth teething at his throat and another upward snap of his hips to make Sebastian's voice ring out beautifully.

Thrusting inside of the younger man's body with abandon Jeremy laid various kisses and bite against the flesh exposed to him. Relishing the way he could feel every little moan and scream passing through the boy's body. He was shivering, shuddering, shaking, damn near falling apart. He might have were it not for Blaire's hands holding him together.

Then Jeremy felt that telltale tensing of Sebastian's body. He knew he should pull back, hold off and torture the kid with dragging this out but the sudden urge to just…make him see stars was overwhelming. Blaire wanted to see Sebastian's face as he came apart because of him, so he reached up, resting his hand against Sebastian's flushed cheek. He was still crying and Jeremy laughed at the sight, the damn kid was already overwhelmed. Nothing hurt him, he was drowning in his own pleasure but still he cried. Damn inexperienced brat.

The hand on his cheek was grounding; an anchor point to the world and Sebastian found himself nearly curling into it. Holding to this moment of gentleness among what had been nothing but pain for days. He looked down at Jeremy through glassy eyes, begging for permission. Begging just to know it was okay to let go, and Jeremy could not give his approach faster. "That's it kid." Blaire praised, voice low as he pressed further into Sebastian's body. "Just like that. Cum for me, love."

There were more tears, unbelievably so and Sebastian's hand whipped up to land over Jeremy's as the firs wave of his orgasm hit him. The kid was not the quiet type, a series of loud, breathy moans accompanying his release. His body tightened and Blaire hissed out as the kid's hole tightened around him.

"Fuck." He grit out, thrust becoming erratic as he fucked Sebastian right through his release and right into that area of overstimulation. Sebastian didn't protest even as it all became too much, each drag of Jeremy's hip against his body sending aftershocks through his body, pulling meek little whines and moans out of him. But he didn't ask for it to stop, instead he seemed to be unable to do anything besides take more and more. Loving it, Jeremy had never loved the kid more than he did in that moment, completely used, fucked out and still taking more.

Even if he'd wanted to keep him there for hours until he was running empty and heaving out dry orgasms, Jeremy knew he'd found his limit when Sebastian looked at him and instead of pulling away, kissing Jeremy again. Desperate, sloppy and more than Jeremy could stand. He pulled Sebastian down into his lap once more and growled into the kiss as he came, pushing into Sebastian with each wave of pleasure that racked through his body.

And fuck the kid took it. He mewled, squirmed and turned a wonderful bright red – but he took it all and when Jeremy was done he didn't pull away. Instead he crumpled against Jeremy's shoulder, boneless and exhausted. It took a moment but Jeremy finally put a name to what Sebastian was doing.

Jeremy Blaire did not cuddle. It just was not on his list of required charities or skills. But when Jeremy prepared to throw Sebastian off of him, maybe spit something biting just to see the kid's world crumble as he was left without any after care, his hands stilled around the blonds back rather than pushing him away. He groaned in annoyance as Sinclair curled into his lap like a damn child, but still his hands were refusing to be cruel, running up and down Sebastian's spine and drawing senseless patterns into his back.

Before long Sebastian was unconscious in his arms and Jeremy still didn't remove him. Instead he leant back, dragging the blankets over the kid and his own lap, hand resting idly in those blond locks. "Christ kid, you really are something else, aren't you?"

In a place like Rapture these little pleasures were extraordinarily hard to come by, so Jeremy enjoyed the novelty of a bed partner for the short time he had it.

Thinking the words Blank Slate now left a sour taste in Jeremy's mouth. After all if he used that code then Sebastian would never remember just how desperate he was for it. Just how much he loved everything Blaire had to give him.

He wouldn't want the kid forgetting how desperately he needed Jeremy.


	7. Marks (Delusion Tax snippet)

_Rough Timeline relation – Living at Waylon's home. Post chapter 13_

…  
…

"You know." Sebastian commented over his cup of hot chocolate one morning. "I didn't think you'd start avoiding me."

He wouldn't have had the spine to say something like that if Waylon was around. But as it was the owner of the house was blessedly absent from the room. Leaving Sebastian free to express himself naturally. It would never cease to irritate and amaze Jeremy in equal measure just how effortlessly Sebastian smothered his nastier qualities whenever someone else was within earshot.

Given that he was free to speak whatever part of his mind he liked, Jeremy was a little surprised by what part of his mind he chose to express. Not sure what to make of the accusation Jeremy glanced over his shoulder at the seated man with a little questioning scowl. He didn't need to say it; his expression was more than enough to ask what the hell Sinclair was talking about.

Sebastian for his part looked incredibly comfortable. As though he'd somehow managed to catch Jeremy in the act of lying. "You have been, haven't you?" He pressed on, ignoring Jeremy's glaring. "Ever since we had that little…chat on the balcony you've been putting some good space between us."

"Oh, because that's so unreasonable." Jeremy bit out sharply, eyes tossing more than his own fair share of accusations. "Given you nearly toppled me off it."

Humming quietly in acknowledgement, Sebastian merely continued to smile and that infuriated Jeremy. He could at least _pretend_ to be guilty for that, although the act would have sent shivers of disgust up his spine. Jeremy rather disliked Sebastian pretended to be saintly when he was anything but now days. With a lazy shrug Sebastian sat back into his seat, the steaming cup grasped between his fingers.

Although Jeremy noticed that he couldn't hold it for long with his left hand. Risking a glance he saw that the heated surface of the mug had inflamed his burns. The blonde didn't draw any attention to this, pretending he was unbothered by it. "True but avoiding me seems a bit unlike you." Sebastian pointed out, dragging Jeremy's attention away from the scarred hands. "And given the amount of time we lived together—

"In captivity"

"—I never noticed you putting distance between us before." Sebastian shot him a warning look in the middle of his sentence. He wasn't about to argue the point, knowing full well that in this case Jeremy had the moral high ground – oh hell must have just frozen over – but he wasn't above scowling at the man for reminding him.

"There was not much room to take anyway." Jeremy groused and turned his back on the other, something that he'd gradually gotten used to doing once again. Today it was a mistake. He heard the chair being pushed back but he didn't realise how close Sebastian had gotten until the man's fingers brushed his arm.

Tensing in alarm Jeremy felt his breath catch for a second, a flood of unpleasant memories accosting him. He nearly expected the scissors to come back. Instead what he got was a slightly irritated Sebastian. "Honestly now, Blaire." He muttered, not bothering to cover up his frustration. "Isn't it too early in the morning for you to be this difficult? I'm only asking for a little clarity."

Gritting his teeth Jeremy was just able to stop himself from stabbing Sinclair with the fork he had in hand. But he made absolutely no attempts to stop himself from turning and jamming his hand against the blonde's shoulder as hard as he physically could. It was satisfying to see it actually hurt Sebastian a bit; he hadn't been strong enough to do that for months.

Stumbling back a few steps Sebastian looked more surprised than he was angry. That could change quickly and so Jeremy used the brief moment of silence he was given to snap at the man. "You can damn well ask for whatever you want – doesn't mean I'm going to give you squat."

Rubbing his shoulder Sebastian looked at Jeremy sourly. "You're being particularly prickly this morning." Sebastian muttered under his breath, looking at him with that expression that suggested Jeremy was the unreasonable one.

He just wanted his poverty coffee for god's sake. He didn't need this shit from Sebastian in the morning, or at all for that matter. "Mind your own damn business." Was what he eventually settled on, fingers pulling his sleeve down further over his arm.

For once Sebastian listened to him. But throughout the day Jeremy could feel Sebastian's eyes lingering on him, trying to figure out what Jeremy wouldn't tell him. He did his best to ignore that constant observation, trying to focus on the games Jackie wanted to play and the ways he got out of actually playing them.

Somehow he didn't think the whole 'you go hide and I'll come find you….eventually' trick was going to cut it anymore.

Jackie might be a rowdy kid but he was by no means stupid and so Jeremy had to keep coming up with new ways to avoid physical labor in their games. Noel was so much easier, happy to just sit and draw or play with simple toys. Usually Jeremy could count on the younger boy to provide an activity that was easy to navigate – although Jackie was never as happy as when they got to play physical games. Jeremy resolved to pull out the golf clubs again, that usually fired up Jackie's need to garner praise and prove his skills.

He almost forgot about his watcher throughout the day but Jeremy would occasionally catch the man's mismatched gaze and be reminded once again. He couldn't very well just let the subject drop could he? No, he had to keep _staring_ at Jeremy.

Sebastian was still watching Jeremy and the kids when a cup was set down in front of him. He startled, not having heard Waylon coming to sit by him. Immediately he warmed his face into a smile, uttering a thank you for the drink. The pair spoke briefly about Riley, the poor hung-over man, and then turned their attentions on the kids. Sebastian felt very domestic, sitting with a cup of tea watching the kids play in the yard. Wasn't even his family and he managed to feel like something out of a white picket fence family film.

Then again…at least one of those kids could be called his.

The thought made Sebastian's smile a little more malicious than it should ever be with Waylon in close proximity. But watching Jeremy struggle his way around the two young boys was more entertaining than he could say.

His kid just happened to be the bratty one.

"It's weird that he's so tolerant of the boys." Sebastian commented idly. "Can't stand me…" He realised a moment too late what he'd said and hurried to take it back, to cover the comment up, but Waylon didn't seem to understand the barely concealed implication at all.

"Well he's not the nicest guy." Waylon shrugged absentmindedly before adding with a nearly impish smile. "And he's never liked _us_ very much."

Deciding it was okay to push his luck to see if he could get an answer from Waylon somehow, Sebastian tried prying for more information. "He seems more at ease with you around. But whenever I'm in the room…"

Waylon tossed him a look that almost had the blonde rolling his eyes in reply. "You did chase him all around that asylum." He reminded, as if Sebastian could forget. "He's just getting used to you."

Right, Sebastian thought bitterly. Waylon didn't know he'd had more than enough time to acclimatize to Sebastian. That wasn't the reason; there was something else that Jeremy wasn't telling him. Even when they'd been back at the shack, Jeremy had never purposefully avoided him like this. What changed? What the hell didn't he know…?

Not knowing was going to drive him right back into insanity.

"You should just talk to him about it." Waylon suggested, as though that hadn't already been tried.

"And how do you propose I ask _Jeremy Blaire_ anything without just getting sworn at and kicked out of the house?" Sebastian inquired miserably.

Thinking Sebastian was just depressed that Jeremy was being so unfriendly; Waylon offered him a consoling pat and then said something that in any other scenario would have been perfectly fine. "Well he's much more agreeable at night after a drink or two." Sebastian's interest was piqued. "Ask him then, he might not be nice about it, but I think he'll at least be honest."

Well…now there was an idea.

Sebastian did as Waylon suggested and pulled back for the rest of the day.

Instead he spent time around the house, cleaning what Waylon couldn't persuade him not to and checking on his brother every once in a while. Now that he wasn't focusing too intently on Blaire, time moved more quickly. Before long the sun was setting and Waylon was asking if they wanted to stay another night – Sebastian agreed more quickly than he ought to have.

Dinner was a pretty normal affair, although it seemed Lisa had decided that if the house was going to be as full as it was, she was pulling out all the stops. Which would have been fine, except she was a rather chaotic cook and watching her make a mess of the kitchen was nearly more than Sebastian could stand.

The distress must have shown on his face because he caught Jeremy snickering in his direction once or twice.

But ultimately the food was saved by Waylon's attentive care and with some efforts made to not look at the monstrous condition of the kitchen; they were able to eat in peace.

The boys did most of the talking; leaving little room for any awkward pauses and Sebastian was content to chat along. But he was keeping an eye on Jeremy again. Waylon remembered their earlier conversation and broke out something that looked about as expensive as they could afford. Still too cheap for Jeremy's tastes but he took it all the same.

Knowing what he did about Jeremy, Sebastian was unsurprised that he drank a lot and did not seem the slightest bit inebriated as a result. That was fine; the goal was not drunkenness – just something to take the lethal edge off of the man's temper.

Finally it seemed to work. Jeremy was less tense. He spoke a little more freely and whenever Jackie said something he was particularly fond of, Jeremy had no reservations giving the boy an approving word and ruffling the boy's hair. This display of how secure Jeremy felt was nearly enough to have Sebastian forgetting he had questions in the first place but…whenever Jeremy glanced his way that relaxation would leave his eyes and he'd be back to glaring.

Something had to be done about this.

Once dinner concluded Lisa had no choice but to let Sebastian help her clean up. It was clear he'd go mad otherwise.

It was while he was desperately trying to scrape away something that she'd managed to burn onto the table that Sebastian caught Jeremy telling Waylon he was going to bed. That was…a bit of a problem. Sebastian grimaced but did not stop the job at hand. He hadn't wanted to corner Jeremy in any way, but he needed this sorted before the night was out.

Once the kitchen was in a notably less horrendous condition, but still in desperate need of saving, Sebastian made himself an excuse. An excuse that Lisa took with an alarming amount of ease, she didn't even seem surprised and Sebastian wondered if Waylon had told her something.

Making his way upstairs, Sebastian hesitated outside of Jeremy's room for a second. He knew that if he knocked he'd be turned away but every single cell in his body screamed in protest when he didn't. Honestly, being rude shouldn't even be a problem for him anymore. But his mind still reeled in disgust when he did not announce his intentions to enter the room.

Forcing the thought aside, Sebastian pushed the door open, words already on the tip of his tongue. Each one died there before he could say them when he made the incredibly poor choice of walking in when Jeremy was half out of his shirt.

Nothing he hadn't seen before but Sebastian's body still went tense, an overwhelming sense of intruding flooding him. He was mortified, feeling every bit the voyeur, but he didn't move.

Which was definitely a mistake because Jeremy just so happened to turn and catch him there.

 _Oooh boy_ —

"The hell are you doing!" Jeremy shrieked. There was no other word for it and while Sebastian did try to explain himself, Jeremy didn't actually stop to hear it. Instead he grabbed the first thing available to him and tossed it at the startled blonde. That thing just so happened to be a lamp.

His initial reaction was to dodge but the risk of the thing breaking was enough to keep Sebastian in place. He tried to catch the lamp but fumbled with it, the impact knocking the air out of his chest.

"Jeremy, wait a second!" Sebastian tried to stop the man from throwing something else, stumbling to set down the lamp and lift his hands in a sign of surrender. "I-…just calm down for a moment."

"This is my room." Jeremy snarled and Sebastian saw he had a book in hand now, looking only seconds away from throwing that as well. "You're not supposed to be in _my_ room."

Recognizing the delicate line he was currently stepping on, Sebastian kept his hands up and tried to pacify Jeremy before anything else. "I know." He stressed the words, speaking slowly, eyes on Jeremy's face for any warning that he was about to throw that book. "I know it's your room I…I just wanted to talk. That's all."

He was begging Jeremy to calm down with his eyes, watching for anything that might give him some sign that he was in the clear. Jeremy was still scowling at him but slowly his arm dropped, the book being lowered and Sebastian could relax just a little bit. With a deep breath Sebastian straightened up, but didn't dare lower his hands or step further into the room. Not yet.

"What do you want?" Jeremy huffed, still watching Sebastian with distrustful eyes. Fair enough.

"Just to talk. That's all." He repeated and watched as Jeremy mulled this over for a while for a few seconds. He knew the moment he was in the clear because Jeremy turned away from him with a small growl under his breath.

Now free to enter the room Sebastian carefully closed the door behind him, relieved that it didn't seem anyone else had heard the commotion. Once the door clicked Sebastian glanced back to Jeremy, taking note of how ridged his stance was.

Part of him felt bad now for not knocking in the first place, but he was in and so he couldn't feel all that repentant about it.

"What the hell do you want to talk about?" He groused, sounding very much like he was considering retracting his permission. If the first words out of his mouth were about Jeremy still avoiding him Sebastian knew he'd be kicked out in a second flat.

However this was no longer a problem because Sebastian's attention had been caught by something else. He hadn't noticed it at first but… "What is _that_?" He asked, startling Jeremy. He actually felt the older man jump at the sound of his voice, had he just not noticed Sebastian approaching him?

Cursing himself Sebastian remembered just how quietly he moved now days. He'd always been rather light on his feet but he'd gotten alarmingly good at sneaking up on people recently. Specifically on Blaire. He'd have to be conscious about how much sound he made from now on or risk giving someone a heart attack.

Calming from his own near heart attack, Jeremy fixed his scowl back into place. He took a deliberate step away from Sebastian and the blonde felt a familiar ugly emotion twist in his chest. The urge to reach out and grab Jeremy was nearly overwhelming. He knew it was a kneejerk reaction, a relic of a time where he actively had to physically keep Jeremy from getting away.

Even now…he found methods of restraining Jeremy.

Instead of ropes he used words and deals, ensnaring the man so he couldn't go far. Funny, Sebastian though this to be a very Blaire way of dealing with a problem. Had he used these underhanded tactics on anyone else – Jeremy might have been proud of him.

"Does the concept of personal space completely evade you?" Jeremy hissed, not answering the initial question.

That didn't sit right with him.

With a step forward that Sebastian made sure Jeremy took notice of, he once again reached out. This time Jeremy did little more than tense, but he didn't pull away when his arm was caught. Through his cringe Jeremy still managed to scowl. "I asked you what this is." Sinclair spoke again, voice lower now. Tone taking on a harsh edge.

He wasn't going to let Jeremy weasel his way out of this, not when there was a _scar_ on him that Sinclair did not remember.

Watching the horror flash across Jeremy's face was painfully telling. He tried to cover it quickly with a growl but Sebastian had seen enough. He was crowding into Jeremy's space now, a small voice of reason in his head screamed at him to back up. To give the man room to breathe, to run if he needed it. But Sebastian wasn't listening to that concerned voice of reason; instead he was wholly focused on the offending patch of skin that had caught his eye.

Jeremy's body was a canvas littered with evidence of his misery. Sebastian had painstakingly patched every single part of him back together countless times. He knew every single one of these marks, how old they were, what caused them – if it was him that left them on Jeremy.

But this one was not one he knew.

In comparison the little scar was barely worth mentioning. It was little more than a discolored line of slightly raised flesh. Like something from a cut that had scarred rather than fade. Against Jeremy's arm, where there were substantial chunks taken out of him – it was easily lost. But not to Sebastian.

That tiny scar felt like an offense.

It was an unwelcome new addition to Jeremy's body and Sebastian's mind was running wild with his imagination. Realistically he knew it must be something mundane. But his panicked mind was coming up with all kinds of scenarios he didn't like.

What if since being separated Jeremy had been hurt by someone else? What if he hadn't actually gone straight to Park, but had actually gotten into trouble? Sebastian wasn't aware that he was squeezing down on Jeremy's arm until the man in question let out a hiss of pain.

That was sobering and Sebastian's fingers eased up just enough to stop from bruising.

Then in the same second he surged forward with his other hand, cupping Jeremy's face to keep the man's eyes on his. "What happened?" He demanded, voice remaining low even though he should have made it reassuring.

"Stop." Jeremy's voice came out sounding strangled. Fingers meekly trying to pry Sebastian's hand away from his arm to no avail. "Don't fucking touch me, Sinclair."

Not good enough that louder voice in Sebastian's head snapped and he very nearly slammed Jeremy against the wall. It was only his self-restraint that kept him from once again tuning his grasp into an abusing one. "Patience, Jeremy." Sebastian bit out. "I only have so much of it."

There was a clear battle going on in Jeremy's head and for as limited as his patience might be, Sebastian let him fight it out.

Finally he was rewarded with a snarl and more words. "It was just a fucking accident you moron. Playing with Jackie, caught myself on a branch, that's it!" Somehow this was amusing to Sebastian and he smiled. Thumbing gently over the scar now that he knew it was something so innocent.

Funny that he didn't for a second doubt Jeremy's story. A pathological liar who had made an art of the act – and Sebastian believed him in a heartbeat.

"Stop that." Jeremy snapped again and Sebastian was a little surprised. He expected to be growled at but there was a note of urgency behind Jeremy's demand this time that caught his attention. There was desperation in his voice. "Stop touching them god damn it."

It clicked.

The thought pushed into place so suddenly and firmly that Sebastian was amazed it did not make an audible snap.

"Why not?"

He knew better. God he should have known better. Sebastian knew, even as his words dipped down into a near mocking murmur, that he should have backed away the moment Jeremy demanded it. He had no right to crowd Jeremy in like this, to trap a man who already bore the scars from their encounters on his mind just as much his body. But in that moment Sebastian couldn't pry himself away.

There was no malice in this. There was no desire to see Jeremy afraid, as he no doubt though Sebastian wanted. Instead the blonde moved with an entirely different purpose. One that Jeremy would have likely laughed at if he were not insulted.

With Jeremy's arm still caught in his hand, Sebastian twitched his fingers a little tighter around his wrist, holding the older man steady. He cringed, looking between Sebastian and the grasp he had tentatively. There was the promise of a struggle if Sebastian overstepped his bounds any further and similarly, there was the promise of failure should Jeremy try to fight him off.

Again his thumb traced over the slightly upraised flesh of Jeremy scar, the man flinched but didn't put up anymore of a fuss than that. Sebastian's eyes were on his face, carefully watching for any sign of real resistance as he pulled Jeremy just that little bit closer. His arm turned upwards, exposing the paler flesh and scar along with it.

For a moment longer Sebastian merely watched Jeremy over the arm he held. "Why does it bother you?" He asked again, quieter still and without a hint of the earlier teasing. He felt Jeremy go taunt under his hands, no doubt taken off guard by the seriousness of his tone. Or perhaps it was how the words came across too gently for his liking.

"Don't fuck around. Just let go of me for god's sake." Jeremy snapped, voice breaking on the final word. "Damn it Sinclair, don't look at me."

That's not an answer; Sebastian thought his eyes narrowing just a fraction. "You're an extraordinarily dishonest person, Jeremy." He replied evenly. "Can't let anyone know when you actually want something nice, can you?"

Sinclair was a little surprised to hear Jeremy's breath catching in his throat. Something about those words jarring him. Frowning he again glanced down at Jeremy's little scar.

Such an innocent little blemish against the horrendous marks across his body. It dawned on Sebastian that while this scar irritated him with its mere existence…it was a badge of sorts.

Once that thought slipped into Sebastian's mind he couldn't shake it.

Disbelief accompanied this new idea as he looked at the scar, this was perhaps the first and only physical evidence of what Blaire _could_ be. A scratch he'd gotten playing with Jackie and Noel – something that would have been impossible for the man Jeremy had once been.

For as much as Sebastian hated to look at it…this small patch of wounded skin was all the evidence in the world that Blaire had become something different from what he had been and for that he could not ignore it.

"What are you doing!" Jeremy yelped, horrified when Sebastian pressing a small kiss to the scar.

He'd never seen Blaire blush before and peering up at his mortified expression as red gradually filled into his cheeks – Sebastian couldn't help but smile mischievously into his wrist. "You fucking freak, knock it off." Jeremy ground out, voice nothing even close to steady. "I told you to stop fucking around…" The words tapered off when Sebastian gave him another little pull forward. As to why Jeremy didn't even attempt to jerk away was anyone's best guess. He certainly didn't stop to wonder himself, instead staring at Sebastian's face when he should have been lining up a punch for it.

Sebastian had that look again, that faint smile and gentle eyes that Jeremy had seen so often directed at Riley or at Waylon but this…this might have been the first time it was just for him.

Now that he had it Jeremy didn't have the first inkling what to do with it. "Will you tell me yet?" Sebastian inquired gently. He paused, waiting for Jeremy to find the words but they never came. With a quiet sigh Sebastian's fingers reached for Jeremy's other arm.

He ought to have pulled away, refused to allow Sebastian access to more of his body. But Jeremy couldn't find the will to do it. Some sort of quiet dread settling over him as Sebastian's gaze turned downwards. Passing over every little imperfection and disgusting scar that had accumulated on his body. Jeremy knew them all intimately. He'd run his fingers over every dip and rise in his flesh, stared at the wreck of a body that replaced the one he'd had before. He knew it well enough that when Sebastian's eyes settled on each scar – he saw exactly how unsightly he was.

"Stop." Jeremy croaked, voice tight with emotion he'd rather bury. "I'm…I'm serious, Sebastian."

For a second Sebastian did stop.

Eyes flicking back up to Jeremy's face and away from the worst of his deformities. Jeremy had more words; more demands for him to step away and stop whatever stupid thought had been conjured up in his silly little head. But when he tried to speak, Jeremy's eyes met with Sebastian's discolored set. The milky white eye on his face snuffing out the words before he could so much as whisper them.

Sebastian's own scars staring back up at him, silencing Jeremy's objections.

After a beat of silence Sinclair smiled faintly, and for a horrible moment Jeremy could almost swear his mind was being read. Sebastian's eyes dropped back to Jeremy's arms and this time he didn't say a word as they traveled up. Then once Sebastian was confident Jeremy would not bite, his fingers followed that path.

Jeremy winced at the gentle contact. He felt disgust seeping into his gut, hot and sickly as Sebastian's fingers fell into every gouge and passed over every imperfection on his body. Running delicately over his disgrace of an arm. They made it to his elbow, dancing across the joint and coming to rest just under his shoulder. Here Sebastian paused, gaze flicking to Jeremy's face for just a moment. He regarded the silent man closely, searching for any sign he would say something to stop him.

Nothing was said and Jeremy could feel the heat burning in against the back of his neck, racing up into his cheeks.

Then Sebastian's icy fingers drifted across from his shoulder, pressing against the uppermost corner of his torso. Jeremy's breath stopped in his chest, daring not take another sip of air, knowing Sebastian would have felt him shudder as his fingers glided overtop the scars that littered his body. Sebastian was focused on whatever it was he was doing, but when his fingers pressed into Jeremy's side, against the very familiar shape of a scar belonging to scissors, Jeremy broke again.

"Please." He spoke quietly, that single word stopping Sebastian dead. "Please don't look at me anymore."

Again the young man was staring up at Jeremy's face. His own a mix of surprise and uncertainty. It lasted for perhaps thirty seconds before melting into something more heart wrenching. Blaire knew that emotion, that obnoxious mix of concern, grief and sympathy. Jeremy was about to snap at him to keep his useless fucking pity to himself, but then Sebastian was pressing a gentle kiss into Jeremy's side.

The action pulled a hiss out of Jeremy who flinched and tensed up immediately. Part of him could not believe how much of a fucking lunatic Sebastian was but…the rest of him was aching.

It hurt.

 _It hurts._

Sebastian's attention snapped back to Jeremy who had not realised the words had actually come out of his throat until Sinclair was there, hands hurried as they wound around his neck and lips just as feverish as they pressed against his own. Jeremy's eyes shot wide and he stumbled back a step, his own hands hovering at Sebastian's sides – not sure if he wanted to touch, not sure he was allowed to even if he did.

The blonde's lips were soft, just like Blaire expected they would be even with the urgency behind the kiss. The only part of Sebastian that was rough, the only part of him that was not smoothed to perfection was where the burns had toughened his skin. Jeremy found, as he unwittingly pushed back into that kiss, that if he was able to take control, if he was able to maneuver Sebastian and change the direction of the kiss – he could just feel that slightly uneven skin against his lips. A small thrill shot through him when he could, that well acquainted sense of ownership washing over him.

It was evidence of Sebastian's place in the world – evidence that he belonged to Blaire.

But a moment later Jeremy came back to himself, jerking back and ending the kiss. He put on an appalled expression, one that was almost authentic when he felt a traitorous sense of disappointment filling him at breaking the contact with Sebastian. "What are you playing at!" He barked, voice not nearly as firm as he'd intended it to be. He felt like a damn blushing maiden, hand lingering over his mouth as that telltale heat rushed up into his face. "You think this is funny?"

"No I, Jeremy…" Sebastian stared at him, wearing that perfectly kicked puppy look. Jeremy hadn't seen that one in a while and for a second his mind didn't quite know how to process it. But then Sebastian's hands were reaching out to catch his wrists again and Jeremy only just had the presence of mind to be alarmed before the blonde pushed them both backwards. He half expected to be met with a wall but instead felt the world fall out from under him as Sebastian pushed them both back onto Jeremy's bed.

The mere fact that he was on a bed with Sebastian did nothing for Jeremy's sanity in that moment.

An undignified yelp found its way out of his mouth when Sebastian's freezing fucking fingers found their way back onto his chest. Once again narrowing in on a scar. Jeremy nearly snarled at him again but the sound was lost in the back of his throat when Sebastian kissed this mark as well. His fingers traveled away, finding another and Sebastian repeated the process. Each one too light, barely more than a brush against his skin and Jeremy couldn't fucking stand it.

His hands came up to his face, covering his eyes as though he might somehow be able to block out the humiliation if he pretended not to see it. But he felt every tender touch, each little caress of Sebastian's fingers drawing a shiver out of him. "Christ…" He ground out. "Why do you have to be so fucking- god damn it." He could hardly even put into words how much he currently hated Sebastian. Drawing attention to each of his failings, forcing Jeremy to remember how revolting his body had become.

How Sebastian could even bear to touch it was beyond Jeremy.

Then Sebastian's cold hand was pressed against the side of his face, and Jeremy jumped again in alarm. Peering out through the cracks in his fingers to scowl at the moron, Jeremy was met with that same faintly determined but no less pitiful expression. The hand cupping his face curled slightly inward, a comforting gesture as it cradled Jeremy's cheek. A feeling Jeremy had never actually felt before. He knew it was supposed to be a gesture of affection, had seen others use it on loved ones. But Jeremy had never been on either end of that contact before.

When the man above him spoke, his voice was kept low but did not manage to entirely keep the slight waver out of his words. "I know you're not the type to believe things easily." He began guardedly. "And I know you sure as hell don't trust what I have to say. I also know you're not the type of man that approves of sweet words…but unfortunately I don't have any other way of getting my thoughts across to you right now. But I'll try to say it in a way you _might_ understand."

Sebastian's eyes slid back open, eyebrows knitting together as he stared at Jeremy firmly. Each word spoken with deliberate slowness and finality. "If I catch you thinking like this ever again, I am going to take your ass to therapy. Understand?"

Jeremy laughed. How could he not when Sebastian managed to say something like that? The implication of a 'real' therapist laughable after all they'd been through. The sound of his laughter was unpleasant, dry and just a touch desperate. "What do you think you're looking at right now?" Jeremy managed after a moment. "I'm a wreck."

"Maybe." Sebastian allowed bitterly. "But this." He continued, fingers pausing on one of Jeremy's many imperfections. " _This_ does not change anything. If anything…I love these scars." Jeremy snarled in answer to that, thinking Sebastian was mocking him but the blond only chuckled quietly, pressing a kiss against what must have been a scar left by Walrider. He then whispered into Jeremy's flushed skin. "You don't believe me but you of all people should understand. These scars are proof that you're alive, Jeremy. They're proof that you kept on going, that you're the ridiculous, dishonest man that is currently living with Waylon Park of all people. They're proof of everything you've done…everything I've done and I love each one for it."

"It's ugly." Jeremy hated himself for saying it. For saying it in such a wretchedly broken voice. Hated himself for becoming something ugly in the first place. Most of all he hated Sebastian for claiming otherwise.

Displeased by this Sebastian glanced up at Jeremy once more. His expression twisted into a frustrated frown before he shifted up, hand pulling Jeremy's chin down so that he could kiss him again. This time Jeremy didn't even have it in him to pretend he wanted to pull back. Instead he let his eyes slide shut, hands dropping away from his face as he relaxed into the gentle contact.

It occurred to Jeremy that Sebastian was such an inexperienced brat.

No idea what he was doing, but rushing ahead to do it anyway because…what? Because he was passionate? Jeremy couldn't help but be amused by this, leaning into the chaste kiss that Sebastian was really putting his all into. This guy…was seriously a complete moron.

This time Jeremy's hands didn't hesitate, coming up to grip Sebastian's sleeve at the shoulder, pulling him in that little bit closer so that he could deepen the kiss. Sebastian startled but didn't resist when coaxed to open his mouth, allowing the more experienced of them to show him what he was lacking. Even as Sebastian lingered over Jeremy, being the driving force behind this contact he was all but putty in Jeremy's hands, going so far as to whine into the kiss at one point.

Jeremy knew he was smiling into the kiss now, amused by Sinclair's blatant lack of knowledge.

This time when he broke it Jeremy only did so when he wanted to leave kisses against Sebastian's neck. He would have bitten immediately, a punishment for all of Sebastian's nonsense were it not for the fact that the kid was shivering a little bit above him, looking just that little too overwhelmed. "You started it." He reminded Sebastian wickedly, almost having forgiven him for that stunt earlier just because he was so entertaining.

"Shut up." Was his genius response and this time Jeremy did laugh out loud.

In retaliation Sebastian pushed Jeremy back into the bed, glaring down at him. "I'm serious." He stressed but Jeremy just could not wipe the grin off his face. Eventually Sebastian cracked as well, a reluctant smirk rising on his lips as he looked down at Jeremy. "Insufferable bastard…" He muttered with a scoff.

The counter quip came easily. "Inexperienced brat." And one of those dazzling smiles graced Sebastian's face. Not nearly as sweet or perfect as the expressions he gave Waylon – but no less brilliant. He laughed and Jeremy almost felt dizzy, at a loss with what to do with this man's attentions.

Then it softened and Sebastian sat up, another glance down at Jeremy just to remind him about how exposed he was. "When I said I wanted to talk this… wasn't exactly what I had in mind." He commented with a little helpless shrug as though somehow he'd tripped into this situation rather than it being all his own doing.

"Are you sure about that, Sinclair? Sounds like a lie to me." Jeremy mused, getting an exasperated glare from the man that didn't hold any heat behind it. Then the expression crumbled and Sebastian looked a touch uneasy.

"Jeremy, can I…?" He struggled for the words for a moment before deflating with a sigh. "I'm sick of you avoiding me."

How was Jeremy supposed to tell the kid that he was being avoided for reasons precisely like this?

Christ, even now he could feel Sebastian's body above him, focusing in on little details his mind had no place focusing on. But of course Sebastian wouldn't think of that, of course he wouldn't realise the distance was there for a good fucking reason. Instead he had to barrel in headfirst and start making demands to fix some imaginary problem.

There was no force, heaven, hell or earth that would have gotten Jeremy to be honest with Sinclair in that moment.

Instead he reached up grabbed a fist full of blonde hair – ignoring the little yelp Sebastian meekly gave – and spoke what must have been the most well intended lie of his life. "So I put a little distance between us because I was thinking you still had ambitions of snapping my fingers one day." A guilty look and a lie believed. "But seeing as you _clearly_ have other idiotic motions rattling around that head of yours – a compromise." He suggested smoothly and was pleased when Sebastian was clearly paying attention. "I'll stop dodging you every other moment of the day, and you will not lie to me again."

"I didn't-" Jeremy fingers tightened in Sebastian's hair, cutting the words out.

"You _will not_." He repeated firmly, each word a slow growl. " _Lie_ to me again."

"I didn't!" Sebastian protested and oh Jeremy could have loved him for his naivety in that moment. It seemed he might have forgotten how easily Jeremy could twist people to his whims.

All those months spent playing the bad guy and Sebastian was still clueless in moments like this. What was the point of playing the big bad if he couldn't hold the act once he was even slightly out of his depth? Bullshiting as you drowned at the deep end was half of a good act after all.

"Oh?" Jeremy mused, jeering tone getting Sebastian's guard back up. "Then what exactly did you have in mind when you wanted to ' _talk'_." Of course he knew Sebastian really only wanted to talk to him. He didn't have it in him to think dirtier than that surely.

He wasn't like Blaire.

But it was easier to mock him about this than to talk about the lie that truly bothered him. The lie that Sebastian insisted was true – that he was not disgusting to look at.

Jeremy did not know how he did it…how he sounded so convincing when he said the things he had. But he didn't believe him, not for a second. He knew his body was repulsive and none of Sebastian's white lies would change that.

As to why he lied at all…well Jeremy couldn't even begin to fathom.

"I swear this wasn't what I…" Sebastian began, sputtering at the insinuation he'd had less than pure intentions. "I just-…you were so…and the scars."

"Jesus, kid. Don't hurt yourself." Jeremy laughed, watching as Sinclair began to turn a nice bright red. Embarrassed and stumbling for an explanation. It was beautiful.

Now frustrated he glared at Jeremy but didn't pull away from the hand in his hair. Instead he took a deep breath and said something Jeremy had not accounted for. "Maybe sometimes it crosses my mind…" He admitted quietly and it felt as though Jeremy's heart just…stopped.

Right there dead in his chest, frozen or broken he had no damn idea but certainly not functioning.

"It…I know it's strange, I'm sorry okay? But I swear I didn't have any bad intentions when I came up here tonight, I swear I didn't."

And fuck he was so sincere. So earnest in the way his eyes pleaded with Jeremy to believe him. His heart was definitely malfunctioning and Jeremy wasn't even sure he was breathing. This kid actually fucking knew what something like lust was, for _him_ no less? Hell definitely froze over that time and Jeremy was pretty sure he'd just lost his marbles.

Congratulations he thought dryly, survived working for Murkoff, every lunatic in that asylum and months of seemingly endless bullshit – but it was some inexperienced kid that did your sanity in. Good work.

"You…you don't believe me, do you?" Sebastian asked, sounding miserable as he misunderstood Blaire's silence. "I know I've been nothing but horrid…and granted you probably deserved half of it – but I'd never…I swear I'd never do something like that."

 _Wish you fucking would_. Jeremy's mind viciously thought, traitorous as it wandered back to a few…very select dreams he'd had. Cursing himself bitterly and cursing Sinclair even more vehemently, Jeremy's expression settled into a scowl as he learnt how to manage with a clearly no longer beating heart.

Gradually his grip on Sebastian's hair turned lax, freeing the man that should have at least tried to pull free at some point. "You are un-fucking-believable." Blaire muttered angrily, still glaring at Sebastian out of the corner of his eye. And the man had the poor manners to still sit there looking like some poor lost pup.

And Christ if those eyes didn't damn near do Blaire in.

"Must be insane." He muttered to himself before reaching up to catch Sinclair by the front of his hoodie and drag him down into a searing kiss. The younger man let out a little sound of surprise before realizing what was happening and it did unholy things to Blaire's pride when Sebastian immediately melted into him. Not once trying to pull away, instead pressing deeper into the small contact Blaire provided.

It was likely not testament to how good Jeremy _could_ apparently be that his first thought after breaking the kiss was, _I suppose if I ever want to drag him to my bedroom all I have to do is start ignoring him._


	8. OutShock5

Today Sebastian was not awoken with a sharp word of shoe jammed into his side. Instead he awoke with a start, alarmed by the sound of something else being kicked in the distance. Laying flat on his side he dared not move at first, wondering how far away that sound of violence had been. If Blaire returned in a bad mood they'd likely be revisiting the vita-chamber.

But no, the sound was far off and it was only when Sebastian began to catch snippets of a conversation that he realised it was coming from outside of Blaire's office doors. He wouldn't have noticed were it not for the fact he could distinctly make out Jeremy's angry voice, he was shouting.

Caution was thrown to the wind as curiosity crept into him. Sebastian had heard Blaire furious at him plenty of times, but he rarely heard the man shouting at other people. Not nearly as sore as he had been most other mornings, Sebastian gradually inched his way over to the door. His movements were unnecessarily wary, quiet as a mouse when he should have known that no one was likely to hear him beyond the volume of whatever argument was being had on the other side of those doors.

Pressing himself in close to the cold material of the door, Sebastian had to strain just to make out what was being said rather than getting only a vague sense of anger.

What he heard was a pair of familiar voices engaged in an equally unfamiliar argument.

It was Trager's voice he heard first. Set into its usual jovial tone that prompted a spark of anger inside of Sebastian. That mad doctor had no right to sound as happy as he did. "All I'm saying is that we gotta start thinking about some kinda party. Granted the invite list is pretty damn limited, not a big fan of stupid people and I think splicers fall into that category. Oh! But no matter, parties need clowns yeah? Splicers could cover that – sure Gluskin could ring up one of those ridiculous dancing stages of his. Man's got to have some work or he'll go crazy. Crazier anywho."

"Jesus fucking christ, Trager are you actually listening to yourself?" Blaire asked bitterly, reaching the end of his rope. "Do you _ever_ listen to the rubbish that comes out of your mouth? Just this once could you stop being such a piece of shit and take something seriously!"

"Ah, come on Jer. Don't be such a buzz kill-"

"You're going to _die_ , Rick!"

An icy silence fell after those words tore out of Jeremy's chest. Sebastian shrank away from the door an inch, hands clasped over his mouth in an attempt to somehow become even quieter than silent.

The quiet persisted and Sebastian's imagination did quite a good job conjuring up the expressions that must have been lingering on the faces of both men. Sebastian had so rarely seen Trager with anything other than an overblown grin that was all teeth, but in his mind now the man didn't so much as smile.

"Jeremy." Trager began slowly. "You're not going to find any answers that I haven't already tried. The effects of ADAM use are… they're unavoidable. I knew that when I shot up, heh, I worked for _you_ didn't I? I knew what I was doing."

Blaire hissed in a breath through his teeth, the sound nearly becoming a snarl as frustration took its toll. Never before had he been faced with such a bleak situation. Every con, every year spent fighting against Murkoff – and it was some sea slug that finally had him stumped?

"If we could just get to Persephone without Archimbaud's fucking nut job cult followers giving us grief. Splicers are too thick in the head to handle organized fighters. And christ, these religious nutjobs are organized if nothing else."

Trager was less confident in this idea. "Even if we could, who's to say that little shit priest really has anything to cure ADAM sickness? Dunno if you noticed, but the man's got one too many screws of his own loose in that noggin o' his. For all you know, Jer, he's harping on about god's given cure the same way he does holy water. All water is the same in Rapture, it'll kill ya if you let too much in. Face it buddy, the idea's a bust."

"I just- I can..." Blaire began again, the sound of papers being roughly picked up just reaching Sebastian on the other side of the door.

"You can't."

Hands set against Blaire's pushing them down, stopping him from trying to find imagined answers in those papers. "For once in your life Jeremy, you can't fix something." Trager told him in a tone that was damn near tender. "I'll forgive you just this one time for being a quitter, okay? So you can stand down now."

"You insufferable bastard…" The papers were dropped and Blaire followed not long after them, slumping back into his seat. "I told you…I _told_ you not to use plasmids." Were it anyone else, were it any other situation, Blaire never would have allowed his voice to become as wretched and helpless as it had. They did not know they were being overheard.

"Easy, Jer." Trager consoled his friend with a quiet chuckle. "You'll hurt my feelings."

"You'll be lucky if that's all I hurt." Blaire groused, but there was no bite behind the empty threat and Trager only laughed again.

"Listen to me, buddy." Never before had Sebastian heard Trager so quiet, so close to being serious. It scared him far more than any of the means wicked smiles ever had. "When I start to really drop off the deep end, start looking hungry whenever I see one of those lil' brats – I want you to put a bullet in my head. You can do that for me can't ya? Rather the bullet than becoming one of them mindless things. I don't know if you noticed, but I rather like my mind. Favorite part of my person next only to my tongue."

"Both of which cause endless headaches for me." Jeremy replied flatly, the echo of a dry smile in the words. A smile that Jeremy couldn't fully realise when he was sitting across from the closest thing to a friend he'd ever had and found himself just waiting for the time to run out. "Why'd we come to Rapture, Rick?"

"Profit." Trager answered with an easy shrug. "A playground of clever idiots and no morals. Right up our ally."

"True." Jeremy muttered, rolling the thought around in his head. It all seemed so trivial now. Murkoff was crumbling, falling apart in what few ways it had remained after Wernicke's death and now Blaire was left in charge and wondering what the point of being the captain of a sinking ship was. Once Rapture was beautiful, full of things he wanted. Things he'd gladly take by force, but thanks to the little skirmish between himself and Wernicke it had all decayed years ago.

They were only really seeing it for the first time now however. With no enemies left to fight, no games or power plays to make – they were left with the sinking ship and Jeremy was beginning to tire of it. "Thought we could salvage this place." He sighed tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Those damn splicers are the problem…if we could just get them off the stuff. Back into their own heads…"

"Listen to you. Sound like quite the utopian." Rick cooed, earning a scowl from his exasperated friend. "How unlike you, Jer."

Despite everything, Jeremy smirked with a scoff. "Well, it's that or go down with the ship. I don't know about you, Rick, but I was never one of nobility."

Creeping away from the door, Sebastian gently pushed himself away. Careful not to make a sound as slunk back away from the door before pulling himself back upright. Once he was back on his own two feet Sebastian walked straight back to the viewing window behind Blaire's desk. He'd caught the man staring out at the city before.

Usually when he just started to come back around from blacking out, he'd catch sight of Blaire watching the crumbling city. He'd never been caught observing Blaire, it was one of the few private things he managed to keep to himself. Sebastian had written it off as a tyrant observing his captured land. But looking at it now, Sebastian couldn't deny the tightness behind Jeremy's stare when he would look at the city.

At this rate they'd all be buried at sea.

Sebastian thought about this for hours. Feelings the small aches and pains lingering in his body vanishing given the proper amount of time. He was also perfectly aware that Blaire had been less punishing with his attentions those last two days. If this was a result of his focus shifting to trying to find a way to – dare he even think the words – save Rapture, Sebastian couldn't be sure.

But Blaire stood to lose Trager and for all the unforgivable, monstrous things the doctor was – he was also undeniably one of the only remaining bright sparks under the ocean. More importantly to Jeremy he was something of a friend. Sebastian had never considered if Blaire was actually capable of feeling attachment to another person. Certainly not something as pure as friendship. Even now it sat in his mind uncomfortably, left Sebastian a little on edge as though any second the curtain would pull back and revel the great big joke of it all.

Unfortunately both Blaire and Trager – for all their atrocities – were still only human.

As the time trickled on by and Sebastian stayed by that window, looking over the flickering lights in the dark a new thought settled into his mind. A newfound determination began to drip through his veins, something he hadn't felt for weeks. The emotion was vaguely reminiscent of his drive to save Atlas and his imaginary family – the difference now was that every thought connected to the newfound passion was his own and this terrified Sebastian. He'd never undertaken any mission without someone else's hand pushing him gently in the right direction.

But now there was only his own thoughts and the city blinking beyond the glass.

Something had to be done and Sebastian began to strategize.

Each thought slotted into place with ease. Sebastian remembered every inch of Rapture he'd crawled through and better than that he knew of the places he had yet to go. While the thought whirled around in his mind, weighing up his chances and options, applying logic to a situation where it truly had no place in being, Sebastian noticed for the first time his own eyes. Jeremy often said he was unrightfully pretty for a place like Rapture, more than that he commented on Sebastian's eyes. Looking at them now he had to disagree with that sentiment, the faint glow they gave off in the darkness of the office was nothing but unsettling and Sebastian found himself staring into the reflection of a stranger.

There was likely no version of himself that Sebastian would have recognized. He'd been broken down and rebuilt so many times that no matter who he was presented with in the mirror it wouldn't fit. But for right now the person staring back at him with the eyes of a monster – that person had a new plan and death wasn't on the table anymore.

He had work to do.

As the door was unlocked, the familiar click, and loud drag of its mass across the floor sounded on the other side of the room Sebastian forced himself not to move. He'd become accustomed to tensing upon Blaire's return, knowing it brought with it more opportunity for pain. But on this occasion Sebastian stilled and felt uncertainty crawl its way under his skin.

The words were well rehearsed; decided upon hours earlier and set in his mind, but now they became painfully hard to say. If it were fear of rejection or scorn alone Sebastian would have felt childish for hesitating. But more than anything he was scared Blaire might take him up on the offer he spoke next.

"Blaire?" The door had just sealed shut again when Sebastian spoke. His back kept to the man he addressed, eyes fixated on the city below. He could just see Blaire's reflection in the glass, saw him pause no doubt surprised that Sebastian had spoken first. A novelty he hadn't expected, usually Sinclair was fairly tightlipped, still guarding what few secrets he could.

Gradually Sebastian straightened up, one hand pressed flat against the glass, unwilling to look away from the now familiar figure of Rapture. Part of Sebastian recoiled form the thought of returning to its decrepit halls, back to the mad babbling of splicers, back to all the mistakes and blood – but then again. Rapture was home, the place where he was born. Where else was he suited to be?

Finally turning blue eyes onto Blaire, Sebastian spoke what he thought to be damning words. "Would you like to use me?"

…  
…

The city was just as it had always been in Sinclair's mind.

In a perpetual state of rotting and yet still somehow able to be bustling with what remained of its life. Most of which ended with a scream, a splat and Sebastian's foot crushing bone into the ground. The splicers were less difficult this time around, Sebastian was almost feeling as though he was being spoiled, being able to step foot into Mercury Suits and not immediately be accosted by the raving made citizens of Rapture.

They scattered, scurrying around underfoot like an insatiable mass of ants and Sebastian was left to weave through them mostly unhindered. Occasionally one would venture too close, nearly brush Sebastian's skin and he'd be forced to leap back. An effort made more for the sake of the splicer than Sebastian himself.

If one so much as touched him, damn near looked at him the wrong way the result was always the same. "Would you kindly take that splicer's head off?" Blaire's voice drawled tiredly over his shoulder and Sebastian grit his teeth in frustration even as his hands reached out, grabbing the rouge splicer that had made the mistake of trying to grab at one of his EVE hypos.

Giving a guttural squeal the splicer struggled in his grasp, clearly they had not been using any plasmids designed to actually improve muscles, if any it may have used some to recreate a look of physical fitness, but the bones caved away under Sebastian's fingers. He jerked the squirming creature forward, one arm locking firmly around its throat while the other buried harshly into its hair. The splicer struggled and screeched right up until the point that Sebastian's hands gave a jerk, snapping its head in the wrong direction and silencing its racket.

The order successfully carried out Sebastian was left to drop the corpse back onto the filthy ground. For a moment he spared it a thought, looked at the body with a pitiful frown before the remorse turned to anger and he whipped around to glare at Blaire. The man didn't even have the decency to pay attention to the murder that played out right in front of him on his command.

"Must you do that?" Sebastian hissed angrily. Blaire merely tossed him a dispassionate look that teetered on becoming amused. Despite knowing he ought to watch his tongue, Sebastian continued to talk approaching Blaire where he stood just a few feet behind him. "You know perfectly well that I'll protect us, you don't have to order me to kill the harmless splicers."

"No." Blaire conceded slowly, a mocking sneer falling onto his face. "But it does entertain me." Sebastian's fingers tightened into fists but he didn't so much as raise a pinky to Blaire. Although he would have liked nothing more than to strike him in that moment. "Besides, he got grabby." Blaire added, shrugging off the death of the splicer as an after thought.

"Your control over basic splicers is damn near fucking perfect, don't give me that."

"Getting snippy aren't you, kid?" The warning behind those words momentarily stilled Sebastian. He might be back in Rapture, a feeling of comfort in familiar surroundings he wished did not exist might have been fueling his confident too much. Better not to tread on too many of Blaire's nerves. Even if they were out of his office, the threat he held over Sebastian was no less severe.

Satisfied with Sebastian's tentative silence, Blaire stepped forward, unconcerned about the gore at his feet. The man laid two quick jeering taps against Sebastian's cheeks before walking on past him. "Keep up, boyo." He called back; just to see if he could actually hear Sebastian's teeth grinding from the distance at that cruel jab.

Temperamental little… Snarling under his breath Sebastian did fall into step behind Blaire. Eyes narrowed on the man's back as he strut through the ruins of a city he'd damn near brought to his knees all on his lonesome. Blaire was not responsible for the flawed thinking of Murkoff, but he sure as hell was the one behind ADAM abuse, the little sisters and the war that had brewed between the under class and Rapture's wealthy. If there was ever a parasite king, this was the man with the title.

And yet, Sebastian followed after him keeping a close eye on anything that so much as twitched. He never relaxed, could never fall into the seemingly effortless comfort that Blaire adopted as they walked through hell. If Blaire was the devil then Sebastian was his hound, ever vigilant as he guarded his master.

His influence over the splicers was near limitless. But there was one thing they would place over their new master, and that was what it had always been. ADAM. Blaire was well aware of his limitations in controlling the unwashed masses, and so he had Sebastian to mind his back. Most splicers would dare come close enough to even see that Sinclair had EVE hypos but there were those just a little less compliant with Blaire's wishes.

Unfortunately these splicers just so happened to be the ones that gave Sebastian the most grief. Houdini and spider splicers being the most notable of their ranks. So whenever Sebastian thought he heard the drag of a spider splicer's blades against the walls, or so much as suspected for a second that he'd seen someone vanish out of existence from the corner of his eye, Sebastian would call Blaire back to him.

At first Blaire had not been impressed with this behaviour. But he learnt very quickly that if Sinclair demanded they be any physically closer, keeping Blaire within an acceptable distance to safeguard, it was for his protection.

This in of itself irritated his not so kindly master. If Sebastian had any patience for Blaire's alarmingly childish habits he might have tried to sooth Blaire's ruffled ego. But when in Rapture a person without a single plasmid was about as threatening as a lamb. It just so happened that Blaire had plenty of other ways to cut people down and Sebastian knew him to be perfectly handy with a gun or blade. Still, Sebastian was playing guard and so Blaire got little opportunity to prove as such. Little desire for it as well seeing as he spent an ungodly amount of time instructing Sebastian in the ways he wanted to see splicers killed.

He first began to play with this idea as they exited Mercury Suites.

Sebastian had been focusing on mentally mapping out the best path to Dionysus Park, only to almost immediately be corrected by Blaire. After all his base of operation had once been just beyond the park and he took a great deal in pleasure once again directly Sebastian. The throw back to those early days slugging through the city with Atlas in his ear was not lost on Sebastian who simply glared and tried to move the conversation forward. Anything to avoid getting hung up on that open wound. However he'd not expected the conversation to turn where it had.

"Kid." Blaire began abruptly, distracting Sebastian for just a moment. He did not have time for whatever Blaire wanted to say, not now that he had a spider splicer under his hands, writhing and just about to die from what Sebastian had planned to be a quick bullet between the eyes. But oh no, Blaire thought they had time to _play_. "See if you can get that mask off its face." He instructed and without even waiting for the three words to make that order irrefutable, Sebastian obeyed. He'd never actually removed a splicer's mask before. Never thought much of it.

However when he pulled and found it refused to give away confused began to nag at him. Again he tugged and this time the splicer shrieked and the mask shifted. The confusion was now joined by disgust as Sebastian saw the mask was not just held on, but sewn into the splicer's skin. His mind raced, wondering if this was the work of Gluskin, dr. Andrew or even the splicer herself. Either way the skin pulled forward with the mask and Sebastian immediately released both. Repulsed with what he saw.

Blaire did not share his weak stomach. "Now that's something." The man whistled before bursting out laughing. "Always wondered if they did that. Hey, Sinclair – pull it off."

"Are you barking mad?" Sebastian snapped back in alarm but he knew no matter how horrified he was, Blaire wouldn't retract the order. Instead he'd smiled and added those three sweet little words.

The mask came off surprisingly easy. Sebastian put it down to the splicer somehow being able to rot while still standing. Plasmids did all kinds of things to the human body. It could be made to make their skin like steel but the organs underneath mush. But in this case the skin gave away with a frightening amount of easy and Sebastian's pulling was met with a sickening squelch as the woman's face came away with the mask.

She was screaming, thrashing about but unable to get Sebastian's off of her after being so thoroughly beaten earlier. Behind his back Blaire would occasionally laugh, tossing out comments about hos unsightly and fucking pathetic the splicer was. And Sebastian…Sebastian was just doing as he was told.

Discarding the mask and the fleshy bottom attached to it Sebastian had completed the order and rushed for his gun with as much haste as he could without fumbling with the delicate weapon. It was this woman's salvation. It was her small mercy, what little Sebastian could give her. He knew that given the chance Blaire would come up with more. Keep giving orders disguised as suggestions until Sebastian had physically taken the hysterical woman apart.

The gun rang out, the bullet passing between the splicer's head and into her brain. The screaming abruptly cut off and she was still. All Sebastian could think was.

 _Thank god._

Blaire wasn't talking anymore and Sebastian got back to his feet, taking a second to breath before turning to face his master. He was met with an unimpressed stare; Blaire looking very much like Sebastian had just ruined all his fun. Part of Sinclair recoiled, scared that this small act of defiance would prompt punishment for himself, but outwardly Sebastian held onto his hostile stare. "There was no need for that. I had her." He said stiffly. There was no immediate reply, just Blaire looking over him as though he'd done something unusual. Then the man smiled with a quiet huff before approaching Sebastian who forced himself not to step back as his reaction. Instead he turned deathly still and did nothing as Blaire placed them toe-to-toe.

Smirking at him Blaire just watched his face. Daring him to try and do anything, to try and so much as flinching. Eventually Sebastian broke, eyes shifting away from Jeremy's face, unable to keep that stare for much longer. This was apparently not displeasing to Jeremy who laughed and stepped on past Sebastian. "I suppose. Let's keep moving, work to do." He agreed, but the words felt very much like he intended to do more.

He had and he did. Sebastian got used to every violent encounter becoming a new level of horrible. He hadn't lost a single fight since Blaire decided to take him up on that offer of being his weapon, but at the conclusion of each victory there was a pause. A terrified held breath, just waiting to see if Blaire thought this particular loser deserved a much more thorough death.

Before long Sebastian was right back to the state he'd been in before Wernicke's death. Covered up to his elbows in other people's blood and jumping on Blaire's command. But admittedly he was far less damaged this time. Blaire acted as a shield against all low level splicers and Sebastian found himself able to breath a sigh of relief when he could enter a room, see a splicer and still know it had no intentions of taking up his time, energy and ammunition. Usually Blaire could bark and order and they'd be sent scattering.

It made the process far less arduous.

As they left Olympus Heights behind Sebastian hesitated for just a moment. His eyes traitorously drifting towards the entrance he'd carved out for himself. It had since been blocked back up. That alone gave him reason for pause and a swell of relief flooded him. They'd hidden the way back to the safe house.

Just knowing that helped to sooth Sebastian's worries. But as he stared at that place he was nearly overrun with the urge to just…go.

It would have been futile, suicidal even to try running. What was worse was the fact that if he attempted to get back to the Parks and his brother now – he'd undoubtedly lead Blaire to their doorstep.

Turning away from the path back to those few he could call friends was perhaps the hardest thing he'd ever done but Sebastian dragged his eyes back towards Blaire and then after a moment more to gather his courage, forced his feet to follow. Just stopping to linger there was dangerous, Blaire had a sharp eye for these things and so Sebastian had to try and keep a close watch on his own reactions.

Leaving Olympus Heights behind as well as his only hope for any real safety, Sebastian trailed miserably after his keeper.

…  
…

"I'm not going through Fort Frolic." Sebastian announced at one point, earning him an exasperated look from Blaire. "I'm not."

The pair had paused in their slug through the city to sit down and look over a map.

Blaire easily pointed out all the existing bathysphere lines and then just as effortlessly pointed out the only few that would still function. Of those few there was maybe only two viable to them. One of which was a direct link to Fort Frolic. Blaire had suggested this one purely because it took them the closest to their location, but Sebastian was putting his foot down on this one. He never wanted to return to Gluskin's little wonderland of nightmares. That left them with only one other path that linked up with the welcome center. Admittedly this path was more difficult to navigate, but Sebastian was willing to make that sacrifice if it just meant he wouldn't have to set foot back in Fort Frolic.

The bathyspheres were the fastest and safest way to get to Persephone. Even then it looked like they'd also have to use one of the older transport systems in rapture. The Atlantic Express which Sebastian had not so much as even heard of until this point. He was skeptical as to if it would function or not given the wretched state of everything in Rapture, but Blaire seemed to think it was sturdy enough to have lasted all this time. Citing a pair of twins, Duponts, as the reason it would still be running. Kept everything in tiptop shape for Martin. As to why he could be so confident of their continued living was beyond Sebastian.

Regardless, the rails were a near direct link to Blaire's old company.

Which was a front on so many different levels that it was actually an affront to Sinclair's sensibilities. Just as it seemed Sebastian was an offence to Blaire's.

"Dionysus Park is on the other side of the fucking city." Blaire snapped at him, not all that tolerant of Sebastian's refusal to put himself back into Gluskin's domain. "What? You expected this to be easy, kid?"

"Nothing is actually going to be easy down here." The words came out as a near unconscious thought. Sebastian was still looking over the map when they slipped out of his mouth. He didn't realise at first what his mistake was, not until Blaire failed to say something scathing in response. Pausing to wonder why his usually mouthy master had suddenly turned silent, the realization sank in.

Begrudgingly Sebastian looked slowly up from the map and found Blaire leering down at him. "Taking quotes are we now, Sinclair?" He sneered and Sebastian felt that same little place in his heart that always cringed at the looming threat of the lie returning, shivering.

In an effort to derail this train of thought before it had gotten far enough to run him down, Sebastian pulled back to his feet in one jerky motion. Fully aware of Blaire's eyes following him, shark like in the way they fixated on what must have been something of a wound still leaking fresh blood into the water. Now all he had to do was try not to splash too much as he drowned. "We take the bathysphere to the Welcome Centre…all the existing bathyspheres travel out of there…it just makes sense. Besides if this M1 track you're talking about still runs…it runs out of the Welcome Centre." Sebastian spoke of reason, fingers tight against the edges of the map he clutched. Each word another flimsy defense he hoped Blaire wouldn't rip down.

The feeling of being watched didn't fade, Sebastian knew the man's eyes were lingering. He imagined Blaire sneering, imagined the cruel smile he must have been wearing. Didn't turn to see the idly look the older man regarded him with. It wasn't until Sebastian heard Blaire moving, felt the man come up behind him, leaning carelessly against his back to reach over with one hand and run his finger down across an imaginary line of the map. Sebastian didn't budge an inch, frozen stiff as Blaire contemplated their options. The final word always belonging to him.

It was difficult to so much as breath with the man in his space. Sebastian knew he was doing it just to scare him but this knowledge did nothing to make the situation any less horrifying. The quiet scratch of his finger gliding over the worn map was about all Sebastian could hear over the roar of his own pulse between his ears.

Tracing that path across to Arcadia and then further down, closer to a place call Paupers Drop. Then a quiet hum came from deep in Blaire's chest and Sebastian went stiff as a board feeling it vibrate through their contact into own body. Equally quiet and infinitely more amused came Blaire's voice. "I suppose the monster might just have a point, imagine that."

Sebastian didn't care that the words were biting, all that mattered was they weren't given in Atlas's voice.

The tenseness fled from his body on one fleeting second and if Blaire noticed how abruptly his body turned lax he said nothing about it. Instead there was a snap of his fingers and Blaire was pulling away, a new sense of smugness in the way he carried himself. "Come on then." He ordered, heading for the bathysphere that traveled far from Fort Frolic, allowing Sebastian a moment to breath in relief. "Of course if this goes sideways, you'll be held accountable for it." He added and it was a true effort not to scoff at that comment.

Didn't matter who was really at fault, if something went wrong Sebastian would be paying for it.

Climbing back into the underwater transport sphere again after all this time did nothing for Sebastian's current state of mind. Just settling down on the ground, sitting by Blaire's legs like a dog and remembering the first time he'd ever seen Rapture – well all of it mixed unpleasantly in his admittedly fractured psyche. One grounded him firmly in the present; the other brought him back to a better time.

Funny that a time where he was running for his life, bloodying his once clean hands and vomiting purely from the abhorrence of it all was somehow better than his new existence.

Blaire did not seem nearly as miserable as his unwilling companion. Staring out the little window in the bathysphere at Rapture. Sebastian managed to catch a glimpse of the older man's expression and was floored with what he saw.

There was something distant about his eyes. Like they looked at Rapture, the ruins of a city right at his fingertips and couldn't quite reach it. That was grief in Blaire's face. Sebastian had never really seen him look like that before. Most often when he stared out at Rapture it was with one of two expressions. Focused frustration or some kind of excitement, not unlike the optimistic glee of a spoiled child.

Thinking of it now, remembering Trager's position and their own near entrapment within the city – Sebastian couldn't say he didn't empathize with that look. He just had not expected to find it in Jeremy's face.

The trip was a considerably longer one than what Sebastian was accustomed to. Passing through large sections of Rapture to get back to the Welcome Centre, and he spent every second of it watching Blaire. Had the man not been so wrapped up in his own world maybe he would have noticed, if he had Sebastian did not know what he'd say to excuse his staring.

As the pod returned to the center, Sebastian glanced up at the familiar structure and smiled grimly. "Welcome to man's mistake." He caught himself muttering under his breath. Blaire only laughed at his bitter tone.

"Feels like yesterday it was you coming up in the bathysphere." He mused glancing over his shoulder to toss a cold smile at his disgruntled slave. "One hell of a welcome home wasn't it?"

While Blaire seemed content to leave the thought at that, it lingered in Sebastian's mind long after climbing out of the claustrophobic transport ball. Home? He thought of home in his brother, in that fleeting moment of comfort he'd felt before it all fell apart again. Rapture was the place he was created, the place he was grown and taught – but it was by no stretch a home.

Home was….what? Sebastian nearly stopped walking but remembered a moment later that he had to keep Blaire in his line of sight at all times, the thought kept his feet moving but this new question still would not dislodge from his mind. What on earth was a home?

The false memories Blaire had planted in his head said home was a warm place, somewhere he hung his jacket and was greeted by smiling parents. Parents that he guessed were likely about as real as Atlas had been. A trick of his programing, there weren't really two adults topside that cared about him were there? The Sinclair family, the nuclear family unit he'd dreamed of, that didn't exist at all did it?

So what did that make home to him?

"Fuck me five ways to Sunday…" Blaire cursed suddenly and Sebastian damn near tripped over his own two feet hearing something so…colloquial come out of the man's mouth.

While he was busy gaping at Blaire for the colourful term, wondering which of his many false identities had picked that one up, Blaire was busy looking over at an honest to god wreck of a train.

Hands on his hips, snarl on hi slips Blaire stared at the hanging train cart as though it had personally offended him. Given its sorry state of disrepair it just might have. "Used this fucking thing every day of the damn weak during the war, leave it alone for five bleeding minutes and-! God damn it…" Quickly Blaire's ranting dissolved into vicious snarls under his breath. "Gotta be a quick fix for this shit…not hiking it all the way to Persephone like this. Think, think…what did that bat Martin always say about the tracks?"

He wasn't… _Blaire_ wasn't there right now.

The recognition slotted into place with a small jolt of dread rushing up Sebastian's spine.

It didn't even seem like Blaire was aware of it. Slipping seamlessly into the lie he'd so happily offered up to Sebastian back in the early days. Now he fell into the habit because…was it familiarity that did it? Looking at the decrepit train Sebastian linked this transport up with the revolutionaries. They would have used these tracks countless times during their war against Murkoff.

Sebastian had not known that Blaire was even capable of falling into that old performance without willing it. How long had he been Atlas for? Years? Did that kind of performance leave a man with a lasting impression? It was a rather unusual position for him to be in – observing someone else as though they were the strange one.

"Kid!" Blaire barked, a tinge of Atlas lingering in the call. "Get over here and see if you can lift this sorry piece of shit out of the way. Can't believe what some of these splicers have been doing." Again his words devolved into low growls of frustration but Sebastian had gotten the idea. The tracks were covered by large pieces of debris. Likely the missing chunks of ceiling and second floor.

Obediently Sebastian crept forward, testing to see how much EVE he had in his system to put enough force behind his telekinesis to start clearing away the rubble. Meanwhile Blaire continued to mutter under his breath, dragging the worn map back out to look over the plan. Now accounting for any more blockages to the tracks.

He wasn't doing it on purpose. The slight lilt to his words, the voice that was not quite his own. Sebastian knew Blaire wasn't doing it knowingly because whenever this act was purposeful it was wielded like a knife over him. Now it came out so naturally and fluidly that Sebastian was left just praying that Blaire never noticed it himself.

There was something unforgivably soothing about hearing what could have been Atlas working out plans as Sebastian worked away. The small swell of spite Sebastian felt at his own stupidity was quickly squashed out by the overwhelming sense of security that voice provided.

"Ah Christ…" Blaire groused, rubbing the back of his head as he reworked the path they had planned out. "Persephone could be half underwater at this rate…that M1 might not even make it all the way…don't fancy our chances walking through Pauper's Drop. Place was a wreck before Rapture even fucking fell."

While Blaire worked his head through the new problems Sebastian heaved another piece of what he was now positive used to be the upper floor, off of the track. All the while shamelessly indulging in Blaire's little unknowing comfort and knowing he'd feel disgust for his weakness later.

It did nothing to help his frail little mind when he turned back towards Blaire, announced the job done, and was rewarded with a smile that could have just been from Atlas. "Good work, kid." The praise – much like the unusual swearing – was definitely a result of Blaire's lingering Atlas habits.

What was worse was that he didn't quite look the part of Jeremy Blaire at that exact moment. Crouched over a old map, kneeling in the ruins of Rapture, he was hardly the embodiment of the tyrant Sebastian knew him to be.

For all of Blaire's insistence that it would be Sebastian's job to get dirty, he'd at least changed out of the blasted suit for this little adventure. In part Sebastian was relieved, not sure he could cope if Blaire decided his appearance was more important that making progress, but it also made the man difficult to look at.

In a suit Jeremy Blaire was just that – Blaire. But wearing what he was now, suspenders of all things, Sebastian could too easily put a different name to his person. It was only the ever-present air of self-satisfaction and cruelty that kept Sebastian grounded. Knowing that no matter which voice he heard or how perfectly Blaire could look the part – he was no hero.

But right now none of that was there and Sebastian started to feel a little lightheaded. It must have been plastered all over his face but Blaire didn't seem any wiser to the situation. Instead he rolled up the map and straightened back to his feet before joining Sebastian to have a look at his work. Satisfied that the track was not too damaged and the rubble all cleared out of the way, Blaire cast Sebastian a pleased grin and set a rough hand atop his head. "Keep that level of work up, yeah kid? Now, lets get out of this shit hole and into the next."

As Blaire stepped into the train, grinning like a mad man now that he had his hands on the controls again, Sebastian quietly crept in behind. Careful not to draw anymore attention to himself. This small gift could quickly be turned into a new torture if Blaire became aware of it. So Sebastian tried to make himself all but invisible, quietly enjoying the memory of the lie in Blaire's triumphant laugh as the train came roaring back into life.

It helped that the train still ran smoothly for the most part. The large doors ahead of them prying open with only a little bit of groaning and the train jerking back into motion after so long of immobility.

The movement of the monstrous thing was hardly smooth. Sebastian pressed himself into the wall, trying to focus on his breathing as opposed to the turbulent rocking of the cart. It was not at all like the bathyspheres that glided through the water with ease. This process was clunky and loud, likely due to its state of disrepair but even had it been as well oiled and cared for as in it's prime – it couldn't hold a candle to the spheres.

But Blaire was unbothered by the rough ride. Standing by the controls, that same expression of determination etched into his smile. Perhaps he could feel it growing closer – the victory he was chasing after Wernicke stopped breathing.

And Sebastian wondered if Blaire would ever be satisfied. If any one victory would be the one he was finally sated with.

"Might as well buckle down." Blaire suggested, not turning to face Sebastian as the suggestion was made. "This old thing is going to take us all the way to Pauper's Drop, hopefully. It'll take a bit of time, rest for a second." For as long as he lived Sebastian would never tell Blaire that for just that brief moment he felt safe.

If Blaire knew he'd no doubt remedy that false sense of security with a gun in hand and vita-chamber in mind. But for now Sebastian relaxed into the pretty lie and let himself nod off amid the rocking of the train.

Once Sebastian was out cold, weeks of fatigue catching up to him quickly, Blaire eased himself back against the wall of the train, eyeing his sleeping monster. Looked just like a real kid. That never failed to amaze him. But it did nothing to further any potential kindness or guilt towards the kid, after all Blaire had killed real children in the past. But this one, this one was his.

Smiling faintly Blaire glanced forward, watching with satisfaction as the train easily passed through Rapture, not a hitch in sight. They'd be closer to Persephone soon and if all went well, they might just have that lunatic Martin's head before the day was out.

Maybe then they'd have a shot at really running Rapture. Draining it of splicers, dragging back those few that could be salvaged. Maybe he'd even be able to save that freak Trager from his own idiocy. If only for a little while longer.

Blaire could be satisfied with that.

Today Sebastian was not awoken with a sharp word or shoe jammed into his side. Instead he awoke with a start, alarmed by the sound of something else being kicked in the distance.

Laying flat on his side he dared not move at first, wondering how far away that sound of violence had been. If Blaire returned in a bad mood they'd likely be revisiting the vita-chamber.

But no, the sound was far off and it was only when Sebastian began to catch snippets of a conversation that he realised it was coming from outside of Blaire's office doors. He wouldn't have noticed were it not for the fact he could distinctly make out Jeremy's angry voice.

He was shouting.

Caution was thrown to the wind as curiosity crept into him. Sebastian had heard Blaire furious at him plenty of times, but he rarely heard the man shouting at other people. Not nearly as sore as he had been most other mornings, Sebastian gradually inched his way over to the door. His movements were unnecessarily wary, quiet as a mouse when he should have known that no one was likely to hear him beyond the volume of whatever argument was being had on the other side of those doors.

Pressing himself in close to the cold material of the door, Sebastian had to strain just to make out what was being said rather than getting only a vague sense of anger.

What he heard was a pair of familiar voices engaged in an equally unfamiliar argument.

It was Trager's voice he heard first. Set into its usual jovial tone that prompted a spark of anger inside of Sebastian. That mad doctor had no right to sound as happy as he did. "All I'm saying is that we gotta start thinking about some kinda party. Granted the invite list is pretty damn limited, not a big fan of stupid people and I think splicers fall into that category. Oh! But no matter, parties need clowns yeah? Splicers could cover that – sure Gluskin could ring up one of those ridiculous dancing stages of his. Man's got to have some work or he'll go crazy. Crazier anyhow."

"Jesus fucking christ, Trager are you actually listening to yourself?" Blaire asked bitterly, reaching the end of his rope. "Do you _ever_ listen to the rubbish that comes out of your mouth? Just this once could you stop being such a piece of shit and take something seriously!"

"Ah, come on Jer. Don't be such a buzz kill-"

"You're going to _die_ , Rick!"

An icy silence fell after those words tore out of Jeremy's chest. Sebastian shrank away from the door an inch, hands clasped over his mouth in an attempt to somehow become even quieter than silent.

The quiet persisted and Sebastian's imagination did quite a good job conjuring up the expressions that must have been lingering on the faces of both men. Sebastian had so rarely seen Trager with anything other than an overblown grin that was all teeth, but in his mind now the man didn't so much as smile.

"Jeremy." Trager began slowly. "You're not going to find any answers that I haven't already tried. The effects of ADAM use are… they're unavoidable. I knew that when I shot up, heh, I worked for _you_ didn't I? I knew what I was doing."

Blaire hissed in a breath through his teeth, the sound nearly becoming a snarl as frustration took its toll. Never before had he been faced with such a bleak situation. Every con, every year spent fighting against Murkoff – and it was some sea slug that finally had him stumped?

"If we could just get to Persephone without Archimbaud's fucking cult followers giving us grief. Splicers are too thick in the head to handle organized fighters. And christ, these religious nutjobs are organized if nothing else."

Trager was less confident in this idea. "Even if we could, who's to say that little shit priest really has anything to cure ADAM sickness? Dunno if you noticed, but the man's got one too many screws of his own loose in that noggin o' his. For all you know Jer, he's harping on about god's given cure the same way he does holy water. All water is the same in Rapture, it'll kill ya if you let too much in. Face it buddy, the idea's a bust."

"I just- I can..." Blaire began again, the sound of papers being roughly picked up just reaching Sebastian on the other side of the door.

"You can't."

Hands set against Blaire's pushing them down, stopping him from trying to find imagined answers in those papers. "For the first time in your life Jeremy, you can't fix something." Trager told him in a tone that was damn near tender. "I'll forgive you just this one time for being a quitter, okay? So you can stand down now."

"You insufferable bastard…" The papers were dropped and Blaire followed not long after them, slumping back into his seat. "I told you…I _told_ you not to use plasmids." Were it anyone else, were it any other situation, Blaire never would have allowed his voice to become as wretched and helpless as it had. They did not know they were being overheard.

"Easy, Jer." Trager consoled his friend with a quiet chuckle. "You'll hurt my feelings."

"You'll be lucky if that's all I hurt." Blaire groused, but there was no bite behind the empty threat and Trager only laughed again.

"Listen to me, buddy." Never before had Sebastian heard Trager so quiet, so close to being serious. It scared him far more than any of the means wicked smiles ever had. "When I start to really drop off the deep end, start looking hungry whenever I see one of those lil' brats – I want you to put a bullet in my head. You can do that for me can't ya? Rather the bullet than becoming one of them mindless things. I don't know if you noticed, but I rather like my mind. Favorite part of my person next only to my tongue."

"Both of which cause endless headaches for me." Jeremy replied flatly, the echo of a dry smile in the words. A smile that Jeremy couldn't fully realise when he was sitting across from the closest thing to a friend he'd ever had and found himself just waiting for the time to run out. "Why'd we come to Rapture, Rick?"

"Profit." Trager answered with an easy shrug. "A playground of clever idiots and no morals. Right up our ally."

"True." Jeremy muttered, rolling the thought around in his head. It all seemed so trivial now. Murkoff was crumbling, falling apart in what few ways it had remained after Wernicke's death and now Blaire was left in charge and wondering what the point of being the captain of a sinking ship was. Once Rapture was beautiful, full of things he wanted. Things he'd gladly take by force, but thanks to the little skirmish between himself and Wernicke it had all decayed years ago.

They were only really seeing it for the first time now however. With no enemies left to fight, no games or power plays to make – they were left with the sinking ship and Jeremy was beginning to tire of it. "Thought we could salvage this place." He sighed tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Those damn splicers are the problem…if we could just get them off the stuff. Back into their own heads…"

"Listen to you. Sound like quite the utopian." Rick cooed, earning a scowl from his exasperated friend. "How unlike you, Jer."

Despite everything, Jeremy smirked with a scoff. "Well, it's that or go down with the ship. I don't know about you, Rick, but I was never one for nobility."

Creeping back from the door, Sebastian gently pushed himself away. Careful not to make a sound as slunk back away from the door before pulling himself back upright. Once he was back on his own two feet Sebastian walked straight back to the viewing window behind Blaire's desk. He'd caught the man staring out at the city before.

Usually when he just started to come back around from blacking out, he'd catch sight of Blaire watching the crumbling city. He'd never been caught observing Blaire, it was one of the few private things he managed to keep to himself. Sebastian had written it off as a tyrant observing his captured land. But looking at it now, Sebastian couldn't deny the tightness behind Jeremy's stare when he would look at the city.

At this rate they'd all be buried at sea.

Sebastian thought about this for hours. Feelings the small aches and pains lingering in his body vanishing given the proper amount of time. He was also perfectly aware that Blaire had been less punishing with his attentions those last two days. If this was a result of his focus shifting to trying to find a way to – dare he even think the words – save Rapture, Sebastian couldn't be sure.

But Blaire stood to lose Trager and for all the unforgivable, monstrous things the doctor was – he was also undeniably one of the only remaining bright sparks under the ocean. More importantly to Jeremy he was something of a friend. Sebastian had never considered if Blaire was actually capable of feeling attachment to another person. Certainly not something as pure as friendship.

Even now it sat in his mind uncomfortably, left Sebastian a little on edge as though any second the curtain would pull back and revel the great big joke of it all.

Unfortunately both Blaire and Trager – for all their atrocities – were still only human.

As the time trickled on by and Sebastian stayed by that window, looking over the flickering lights in the dark a new thought settled into his mind. A newfound determination began to drip through his veins, something he hadn't felt for weeks. The emotion was vaguely reminiscent of his drive to save Atlas and his imaginary family – the difference now was that every thought connected to the newfound passion was his own and this terrified Sebastian. He'd never undertaken any mission without someone else's hand pushing him gently in the right direction.

But now there were only his own thoughts and the city blinking beyond the glass.

Something had to be done and Sebastian began to strategize.

Each thought slotted into place with ease. Sebastian remembered every inch of Rapture he'd crawled through and better than that he knew of the places he had yet to go. While the thought whirled around in his mind, weighing up his chances and options, applying logic to a situation where it truly had no place in being, Sebastian noticed for the first time his own eyes.

Jeremy often said he was unrightfully pretty for a place like Rapture, more than that he commented on Sebastian's eyes. Looking at them now he had to disagree with that sentiment, the faint glow they gave off in the darkness of the office was nothing but unsettling and Sebastian found himself staring into the reflection of a stranger.

There was likely no version of himself that Sebastian would have recognized. He'd been broken down and rebuilt so many times that no matter who he was presented with in the mirror it wouldn't fit. But for right now the person staring back at him with the eyes of a monster – that person had a new plan and death wasn't on the table anymore.

He had work to do.

As the door was unlocked, the familiar click, and loud drag of its mass across the floor sounded on the other side of the room Sebastian forced himself not to move. He'd become accustomed to tensing upon Blaire's return, knowing it brought with it more opportunity for pain. But on this occasion Sebastian stilled and felt uncertainty crawl its way under his skin.

The words were well rehearsed; decided upon hours earlier and set in his mind, but now they became painfully hard to say. If it were fear of rejection or scorn alone Sebastian would have felt childish for hesitating. But more than anything he was scared Blaire might take him up on the offer he spoke next.

"Blaire?" The door had just sealed shut again when Sebastian spoke. His back kept to the man he addressed, eyes fixated on the city below. He could just see Blaire's reflection in the glass, saw him pause no doubt surprised that Sebastian had spoken first. A novelty he hadn't expected, usually Sinclair was fairly tightlipped, still guarding what few secrets he could.

Gradually Sebastian straightened up, one hand pressed flat against the glass, unwilling to look away from the now familiar figure of Rapture. Part of Sebastian recoiled form the thought of returning to its decrepit halls, back to the mad babbling of splicers, back to all the mistakes and blood – but then again. Rapture was home, the place where he was born. Where else was he suited to be?

Finally turning blue eyes onto Blaire, Sebastian spoke what he thought to be damning words. "Would you like to use me?"

…  
…

The city was just as it had always been in Sinclair's mind.

In a perpetual state of rotting and yet still somehow able to be bustling with what remained of its life. Most of which ended with a scream, a splat and Sebastian's foot crushing bone into the ground. The splicers were less difficult this time around, Sebastian was almost feeling as though he was being spoiled, being able to step foot into Mercury Suits and not immediately be accosted by the raving made citizens of Rapture.

They scattered, scurrying around underfoot like an insatiable mass of ants and Sebastian was left to weave through them mostly unhindered. Occasionally one would venture too close, nearly brush Sebastian's skin and he'd be forced to leap back. An effort made more for the sake of the splicer than Sebastian himself.

If one so much as touched him, damn near looked at him the wrong way the result was always the same. "Would you kindly take that splicer's head off?" Blaire's voice drawled tiredly over his shoulder and Sebastian grit his teeth in frustration even as his hands reached out, grabbing the rouge splicer that had made the mistake of trying to grab at one of his EVE hypos.

Giving a guttural squeal the splicer struggled in his grasp, clearly they had not been using any plasmids designed to actually improve muscles, if any it may have used some to recreate a look of physical fitness, but the bones caved away under Sebastian's fingers. He jerked the squirming creature forward, one arm locking firmly around its throat while the other buried harshly into its hair. The splicer struggled and screeched right up until the point that Sebastian's hands gave a jerk, snapping its head in the wrong direction and silencing its racket.

The order successfully carried out Sebastian was left to drop the corpse back onto the filthy ground. For a moment he spared it a thought, looked at the body with a pitiful frown before the remorse turned to anger and he whipped around to glare at Blaire. The man didn't even have the decency to pay attention to the murder that played out right in front of him on his command.

"Must you do that?" Sebastian hissed angrily. Blaire merely tossed him a dispassionate look that teetered on becoming amused. Despite knowing he ought to watch his tongue, Sebastian continued to talk approaching Blaire where he stood just a few feet behind him. "You know perfectly well that I'll protect us, you don't have to order me to kill the harmless splicers."

"No." Blaire conceded slowly, a mocking sneer falling onto his face. "But it does entertain me." Sebastian's fingers tightened into fists but he didn't so much as raise a pinky to Blaire. Although he would have liked nothing more than to strike him in that moment. "Besides, he got grabby." Blaire added, shrugging off the death of the splicer as an after thought.

"Your control over basic splicers is damn near fucking perfect, don't give me that."

"Getting snippy aren't you, kid?" The warning behind those words momentarily stilled Sebastian. He might be back in Rapture, a feeling of comfort in familiar surroundings he wished did not exist might have been fueling his confident too much. Better not to tread on too many of Blaire's nerves. Even if they were out of his office, the threat he held over Sebastian was no less severe.

Satisfied with Sebastian's tentative silence, Blaire stepped forward, unconcerned about the gore at his feet. The man laid two quick jeering taps against Sebastian's cheeks before walking on past him. "Keep up, boyo." He called back; just to see if he could actually hear Sebastian's teeth grinding from the distance at that cruel jab.

Temperamental little… Snarling under his breath Sebastian did fall into step behind Blaire. Eyes narrowed on the man's back as he strut through the ruins of a city he'd damn near brought to his knees all on his lonesome. Blaire was not responsible for the flawed thinking of Murkoff, but he sure as hell was the one behind ADAM abuse, the little sisters and the war that had brewed between the under class and Rapture's wealthy. If there was ever a parasite king, this was the man with the title.

And yet, Sebastian followed after him keeping a close eye on anything that so much as twitched. He never relaxed, could never fall into the seemingly effortless comfort that Blaire adopted as they walked through hell. If Blaire was the devil then Sebastian was his hound, ever vigilant as he guarded his master.

His influence over the splicers was near limitless. But there was one thing they would place over their new master, and that was what it had always been. ADAM. Blaire was well aware of his limitations in controlling the unwashed masses, and so he had Sebastian to mind his back. Most splicers would dare come close enough to even see that Sinclair had EVE hypos but there were those just a little less compliant with Blaire's wishes.

Unfortunately these splicers just so happened to be the ones that gave Sebastian the most grief. Houdini and spider splicers being the most notable of their ranks. So whenever Sebastian thought he heard the drag of a spider splicer's blades against the walls, or so much as suspected for a second that he'd seen someone vanish out of existence from the corner of his eye, Sebastian would call Blaire back to him.

At first Blaire had not been impressed with this behaviour. But he learnt very quickly that if Sinclair demanded they be any physically closer, keeping Blaire within an acceptable distance to safeguard, it was for his protection.

This in of itself irritated his not so kindly master. If Sebastian had any patience for Blaire's alarmingly childish habits he might have tried to sooth Blaire's ruffled ego. But when in Rapture a person without a single plasmid was about as threatening as a lamb. It just so happened that Blaire had plenty of other ways to cut people down and Sebastian knew him to be perfectly handy with a gun or blade. Still, Sebastian was playing guard and so Blaire got little opportunity to prove as such. Little desire for it as well seeing as he spent an ungodly amount of time instructing Sebastian in the ways he wanted to see splicers killed.

He first began to play with this idea as they exited Mercury Suites.

Sebastian had been focusing on mentally mapping out the best path to Dionysus Park, only to almost immediately be corrected by Blaire. After all his base of operation had once been just beyond the park and he took a great deal in pleasure once again directly Sebastian. The throw back to those early days slugging through the city with Atlas in his ear was not lost on Sebastian who simply glared and tried to move the conversation forward. Anything to avoid getting hung up on that open wound. However he'd not expected the conversation to turn where it had.

"Kid." Blaire began abruptly, distracting Sebastian for just a moment. He did not have time for whatever Blaire wanted to say, not now that he had a spider splicer under his hands, writhing and just about to die from what Sebastian had planned to be a quick bullet between the eyes. But oh no, Blaire thought they had time to _play_. "See if you can get that mask off its face." He instructed and without even waiting for the three words to make that order irrefutable, Sebastian obeyed. He'd never actually removed a splicer's mask before. Never thought much of it.

However when he pulled and found it refused to give away confused began to nag at him. Again he tugged and this time the splicer shrieked and the mask shifted. The confusion was now joined by disgust as Sebastian saw the mask was not just held on, but sewn into the splicer's skin. His mind raced, wondering if this was the work of Gluskin, dr. Andrew or even the splicer herself. Either way the skin pulled forward with the mask and Sebastian immediately released both. Repulsed with what he saw.

Blaire did not share his weak stomach. "Now that's something." The man whistled before bursting out laughing. "Always wondered if they did that. Hey, Sinclair – pull it off."

"Are you barking mad?" Sebastian snapped back in alarm but he knew no matter how horrified he was, Blaire wouldn't retract the order. Instead he'd smiled and added those three sweet little words.

The mask came off surprisingly easy. Sebastian put it down to the splicer somehow being able to rot while still standing. Plasmids did all kinds of things to the human body. It could be made to make their skin like steel but the organs underneath mush. But in this case the skin gave away with a frightening amount of easy and Sebastian's pulling was met with a sickening squelch as the woman's face came away with the mask.

She was screaming, thrashing about but unable to get Sebastian's off of her after being so thoroughly beaten earlier. Behind his back Blaire would occasionally laugh, tossing out comments about hos unsightly and fucking pathetic the splicer was. And Sebastian…Sebastian was just doing as he was told.

Discarding the mask and the fleshy bottom attached to it Sebastian had completed the order and rushed for his gun with as much haste as he could without fumbling with the delicate weapon. It was this woman's salvation. It was her small mercy, what little Sebastian could give her. He knew that given the chance Blaire would come up with more. Keep giving orders disguised as suggestions until Sebastian had physically taken the hysterical woman apart.

The gun rang out, the bullet passing between the splicer's head and into her brain. The screaming abruptly cut off and she was still. All Sebastian could think was.

 _Thank god._

Blaire wasn't talking anymore and Sebastian got back to his feet, taking a second to breath before turning to face his master. He was met with an unimpressed stare; Blaire looking very much like Sebastian had just ruined all his fun. Part of Sinclair recoiled, scared that this small act of defiance would prompt punishment for himself, but outwardly Sebastian held onto his hostile stare. "There was no need for that. I had her." He said stiffly. There was no immediate reply, just Blaire looking over him as though he'd done something unusual. Then the man smiled with a quiet huff before approaching Sebastian who forced himself not to step back as his reaction. Instead he turned deathly still and did nothing as Blaire placed them toe-to-toe.

Smirking at him Blaire just watched his face. Daring him to try and do anything, to try and so much as flinching. Eventually Sebastian broke, eyes shifting away from Jeremy's face, unable to keep that stare for much longer. This was apparently not displeasing to Jeremy who laughed and stepped on past Sebastian. "I suppose. Let's keep moving, work to do." He agreed, but the words felt very much like he intended to do more.

He had and he did. Sebastian got used to every violent encounter becoming a new level of horrible. He hadn't lost a single fight since Blaire decided to take him up on that offer of being his weapon, but at the conclusion of each victory there was a pause. A terrified held breath, just waiting to see if Blaire thought this particular loser deserved a much more thorough death.

Before long Sebastian was right back to the state he'd been in before Wernicke's death. Covered up to his elbows in other people's blood and jumping on Blaire's command. But admittedly he was far less damaged this time. Blaire acted as a shield against all low level splicers and Sebastian found himself able to breath a sigh of relief when he could enter a room, see a splicer and still know it had no intentions of taking up his time, energy and ammunition. Usually Blaire could bark and order and they'd be sent scattering.

It made the process far less arduous.

As they left Olympus Heights behind Sebastian hesitated for just a moment. His eyes traitorously drifting towards the entrance he'd carved out for himself. It had since been blocked back up. That alone gave him reason for pause and a swell of relief flooded him. They'd hidden the way back to the safe house.

Just knowing that helped to sooth Sebastian's worries. But as he stared at that place he was nearly overrun with the urge to just…go.

It would have been futile, suicidal even to try running. What was worse was the fact that if he attempted to get back to the Parks and his brother now – he'd undoubtedly lead Blaire to their doorstep.

Turning away from the path back to those few he could call friends was perhaps the hardest thing he'd ever done but Sebastian dragged his eyes back towards Blaire and then after a moment more to gather his courage, forced his feet to follow. Just stopping to linger there was dangerous, Blaire had a sharp eye for these things and so Sebastian had to try and keep a close watch on his own reactions.

Leaving Olympus Heights behind as well as his only hope for any real safety, Sebastian trailed miserably after his keeper.

…  
…

"I'm not going through Fort Frolic." Sebastian announced at one point, earning him an exasperated look from Blaire. "I'm not."

The pair had paused in their slug through the city to sit down and look over a map.

Blaire easily pointed out all the existing bathysphere lines and then just as effortlessly pointed out the only few that would still function. Of those few there was maybe only two viable to them. One of which was a direct link to Fort Frolic. Blaire had suggested this one purely because it took them the closest to their location, but Sebastian was putting his foot down on this one. He never wanted to return to Gluskin's little wonderland of nightmares. That left them with only one other path that linked up with the welcome center. Admittedly this path was more difficult to navigate, but Sebastian was willing to make that sacrifice if it just meant he wouldn't have to set foot back in Fort Frolic.

The bathyspheres were the fastest and safest way to get to Persephone. Even then it looked like they'd also have to use one of the older transport systems in rapture. The Atlantic Express which Sebastian had not so much as even heard of until this point. He was skeptical as to if it would function or not given the wretched state of everything in Rapture, but Blaire seemed to think it was sturdy enough to have lasted all this time. Citing a pair of twins, Duponts, as the reason it would still be running. Kept everything in tiptop shape for Martin. As to why he could be so confident of their continued living was beyond Sebastian.

Regardless, the rails were a near direct link to Blaire's old company.

Which was a front on so many different levels that it was actually an affront to Sinclair's sensibilities. Just as it seemed Sebastian was an offence to Blaire's.

"Dionysus Park is on the other side of the fucking city." Blaire snapped at him, not all that tolerant of Sebastian's refusal to put himself back into Gluskin's domain. "What? You expected this to be easy, kid?"

"Nothing is actually going to be easy down here." The words came out as a near unconscious thought. Sebastian was still looking over the map when they slipped out of his mouth. He didn't realise at first what his mistake was, not until Blaire failed to say something scathing in response. Pausing to wonder why his usually mouthy master had suddenly turned silent, the realization sank in.

Begrudgingly Sebastian looked slowly up from the map and found Blaire leering down at him. "Taking quotes are we now, Sinclair?" He sneered and Sebastian felt that same little place in his heart that always cringed at the looming threat of the lie returning, shivering.

In an effort to derail this train of thought before it had gotten far enough to run him down, Sebastian pulled back to his feet in one jerky motion. Fully aware of Blaire's eyes following him, shark like in the way they fixated on what must have been something of a wound still leaking fresh blood into the water. Now all he had to do was try not to splash too much as he drowned. "We take the bathysphere to the Welcome Centre…all the existing bathyspheres travel out of there…it just makes sense. Besides if this M1 track you're talking about still runs…it runs out of the Welcome Centre." Sebastian spoke of reason, fingers tight against the edges of the map he clutched. Each word another flimsy defense he hoped Blaire wouldn't rip down.

The feeling of being watched didn't fade, Sebastian knew the man's eyes were lingering. He imagined Blaire sneering, imagined the cruel smile he must have been wearing. Didn't turn to see the flat stare the older man regarded him with. It wasn't until Sebastian heard Blaire moving, felt the man come up behind him, leaning carelessly against his back to reach over with one hand and run his finger down across an imaginary line of the map. Sebastian didn't budge an inch, frozen stiff as Blaire contemplated their options. The final word always belonging to him.

It was difficult to so much as breath with the man in his space. Sebastian knew he was doing it just to scare him but this knowledge did nothing to make the situation any less horrifying. The quiet scratch of his finger gliding over the worn map was about all Sebastian could hear over the roar of his own pulse between his ears.

Tracing that path across to Arcadia and then further down, closer to a place call Paupers Drop. Then a quiet hum came from deep in Blaire's chest and Sebastian went stiff as a board feeling it vibrate through their contact into own body. Equally quiet and infinitely more amused came Blaire's voice. "I suppose the monster might just have a point, imagine that."

Sebastian didn't care that the words were biting, all that mattered was they weren't given in Atlas's voice.

The tenseness fled from his body on one fleeting second and if Blaire noticed how abruptly his body turned lax he said nothing about it. Instead there was a snap of his fingers and Blaire was pulling away, a new sense of smugness in the way he carried himself. "Come on then." He ordered, heading for the bathysphere that traveled far from Fort Frolic, allowing Sebastian a moment to breath in relief. "Of course if this goes sideways, you'll be held accountable for it." He added and it was a true effort not to scoff at that comment.

Didn't matter who was really at fault, if something went wrong Sebastian would be paying for it.

Climbing back into the underwater transport sphere again after all this time did nothing for Sebastian's current state of mind. Just settling down on the ground, sitting by Blaire's legs like a dog and remembering the first time he'd ever seen Rapture – well all of it mixed unpleasantly in his admittedly fractured psyche. One grounded him firmly in the present; the other brought him back to a better time.

Funny that a time where he was running for his life, bloodying his once clean hands and vomiting purely from the abhorrence of it all was somehow better than his new existence.

Blaire did not seem nearly as miserable as his unwilling companion. Staring out the little window in the bathysphere at Rapture. Sebastian managed to catch a glimpse of the older man's expression and was floored with what he saw.

There was something distant about his eyes. Like they looked at Rapture, the ruins of a city right at his fingertips and couldn't quite reach it. That was grief in Blaire's face. Sebastian had never really seen him look like that before. Most often when he stared out at Rapture it was with one of two expressions. Focused frustration or some kind of excitement, not unlike the optimistic glee of a spoiled child.

Thinking of it now, remembering Trager's position and their own near entrapment within the city – Sebastian couldn't say he didn't empathize with that look. He just had not expected to find it in Jeremy's face.

The trip was a considerably longer one than what Sebastian was accustomed to. Passing through large sections of Rapture to get back to the Welcome Centre, and he spent every second of it watching Blaire. Had the man not been so wrapped up in his own world maybe he would have noticed, if he had Sebastian did not know what he'd say to excuse his staring.

As the pod returned to the center, Sebastian glanced up at the familiar structure and smiled grimly. "Welcome to man's mistake." He caught himself muttering under his breath. Blaire only laughed at his bitter tone.

"Feels like yesterday it was you coming up in the bathysphere." He mused glancing over his shoulder to toss a cold smile at his disgruntled slave. "One hell of a welcome home wasn't it?"

While Blaire seemed content to leave the thought at that, it lingered in Sebastian's mind long after climbing out of the claustrophobic transport ball. Home? He thought of home in his brother, in that fleeting moment of comfort he'd felt before it all fell apart again. Rapture was the place he was created, the place he was grown and taught – but it was by no stretch a home.

Home was….what? Sebastian nearly stopped walking but remembered a moment later that he had to keep Blaire in his line of sight at all times, the thought kept his feet moving but this new question still would not dislodge from his mind. What on earth was a home?

The false memories Blaire had planted in his head said home was a warm place, somewhere he hung his jacket and was greeted by smiling parents. Parents that he guessed were likely about as real as Atlas had been. A trick of his programing, there weren't really two adults topside that cared about him were there? The Sinclair family, the nuclear family unit he'd dreamed of, that didn't exist at all did it?

So what did that make home to him?

"Fuck me five ways to Sunday…" Blaire cursed suddenly and Sebastian damn near tripped over his own two feet hearing something so…colloquial come out of the man's mouth.

While he was busy gaping at Blaire for the colourful term, wondering which of his many false identities had picked that one up, Blaire was busy looking over at an honest to god wreck of a train.

Hands on his hips, snarl on hi slips Blaire stared at the hanging train cart as though it had personally offended him. Given its sorry state of disrepair it just might have. "Used this fucking thing every day of the damn weak during the war, leave it alone for five bleeding minutes and-! God damn it…" Quickly Blaire's ranting dissolved into vicious snarls under his breath. "Gotta be a quick fix for this shit…not hiking it all the way to Persephone like this. Think, think…what did that bat Martin always say about the tracks?"

He wasn't…that wasn't _Blaire_ there right now.

The recognition slotted into place with a small jolt of dread rushing up Sebastian's spine.

It didn't even seem like Blaire was aware of it. Slipping seamlessly into the lie he'd so happily offered up to Sebastian back in the early days. Now he fell into the habit because…was it familiarity that did it? Looking at the decrepit train Sebastian linked this transport up with the revolutionaries. They would have used these tracks countless times during their war against Murkoff.

Sebastian had not known that Blaire was even capable of falling into that old performance without willing it. How long had he been Atlas for? Years? Did that kind of performance leave a man with a lasting impression? It was a rather unusual position for him to be in – observing someone else as though they were the strange one.

"Kid!" Blaire barked, a tinge of Atlas lingering in the call. "Get over here and see if you can lift this sorry piece of shit out of the way. Can't believe what some of these splicers have been doing." Again his words devolved into low growls of frustration but Sebastian had gotten the idea. The tracks were covered by large pieces of debris. Likely the missing chunks of ceiling and second floor.

Obediently Sebastian crept forward, testing to see how much EVE he had in his system to put enough force behind his telekinesis to start clearing away the rubble. Meanwhile Blaire continued to mutter under his breath, dragging the worn map back out to look over the plan. Now accounting for any more blockages to the tracks.

He wasn't doing it on purpose. The slight lilt to his words, the voice that was not quite his own. Sebastian knew Blaire wasn't doing it knowingly because whenever this act was purposeful it was wielded like a knife over him. Now it came out so naturally and fluidly that Sebastian was left just praying that Blaire never noticed it himself.

There was something unforgivably soothing about hearing what could have been Atlas working out plans as Sebastian worked away. The small swell of spite Sebastian felt at his own stupidity was quickly squashed out by the overwhelming sense of security that voice provided.

"Ah Christ…" Blaire groused, rubbing the back of his head as he reworked the path they had planned out. "Persephone could be half underwater at this rate…that M1 might not even make it all the way…don't fancy our chances walking through Pauper's Drop. Place was a wreck before Rapture even fucking fell."

While Blaire worked his head through the new problems Sebastian heaved another piece of what he was now positive used to be the upper floor, off of the track. All the while shamelessly indulging in Blaire's little unknowing comfort and knowing he'd feel disgust for his weakness later.

It did nothing to help his frail little mind when he turned back towards Blaire, announced the job done, and was rewarded with a smile that could have just been from Atlas. "Good work, kid." The praise – much like the unusual swearing – was definitely a result of Blaire's lingering Atlas habits.

What was worse was that he didn't quite look the part of Jeremy Blaire at that exact moment. Crouched over a old map, kneeling in the ruins of Rapture, he was hardly the embodiment of the tyrant Sebastian knew him to be.

For all of Blaire's insistence that it would be Sebastian's job to get dirty, he'd at least changed out of the blasted suit for this little adventure. In part Sebastian was relieved, not sure he could cope if Blaire decided his appearance was more important that making progress, but it also made the man difficult to look at.

In a suit Jeremy Blaire was just that – Blaire. But wearing what he was now, suspenders of all things, Sebastian could too easily put a different name to his person. It was only the ever-present air of self-satisfaction and cruelty that kept Sebastian grounded. Knowing that no matter which voice he heard or how perfectly Blaire could look the part – he was no hero.

But right now none of that was there and Sebastian started to feel a little lightheaded. It must have been plastered all over his face but Blaire didn't seem any wiser to the situation. Instead he rolled up the map and straightened back to his feet before joining Sebastian to have a look at his work. Satisfied that the track was not too damaged and the rubble all cleared out of the way, Blaire cast Sebastian a pleased grin and set a rough hand atop his head. "Keep that level of work up, yeah kid? Now, lets get out of this shit hole and into the next."

As Blaire stepped into the train, grinning like a mad man now that he had his hands on the controls again, Sebastian quietly crept in behind. Careful not to draw anymore attention to himself. This small gift could quickly be turned into a new torture if Blaire became aware of it. So Sebastian tried to make himself all but invisible, quietly enjoying the memory of the lie in Blaire's triumphant laugh as the train came roaring back into life.

It helped that the train still ran smoothly for the most part. The large doors ahead of them prying open with only a little bit of groaning and the train jerking back into motion after so long of immobility.

The movement of the monstrous thing was hardly smooth. Sebastian pressed himself into the wall, trying to focus on his breathing as opposed to the turbulent rocking of the cart. It was not at all like the bathyspheres that glided through the water with ease. This process was clunky and loud, likely due to its state of disrepair but even had it been as well oiled and cared for as in it's prime – it couldn't hold a candle to the spheres.

But Blaire was unbothered by the rough ride. Standing by the controls, that same expression of determination etched into his smile. Perhaps he could feel it growing closer – the victory he was chasing after Wernicke stopped breathing.

And Sebastian wondered if Blaire would ever be satisfied. If any one victory would be the one he was finally sated with.

"Might as well buckle down." Blaire suggested, not turning to face Sebastian as the suggestion was made. "This old thing is going to take us all the way to Pauper's Drop, hopefully. It'll take a bit of time, rest for a second." For as long as he lived Sebastian would never tell Blaire that for just that brief moment he felt safe.

If Blaire knew he'd no doubt remedy that false sense of security with a gun in hand and vita-chamber in mind. But for now Sebastian relaxed into the pretty lie and let himself nod off amid the rocking of the train.

Once Sebastian was out cold, weeks of fatigue catching up to him quickly, Blaire eased himself back against the wall of the train, eyeing his sleeping monster. Looked just like a real kid. That never failed to amaze him. But it did nothing to further any potential kindness or guilt towards the kid, after all Blaire had killed real children in the past. But this one, this one was his.

Smiling faintly Blaire glanced forward, watching with satisfaction as the train easily passed through Rapture, not a hitch in sight. They'd be closer to Persephone soon and if all went well, they might just have that lunatic Martin's head before the day was out.

Maybe then they'd have a shot at really running Rapture. Draining it of splicers, dragging back those few that could be salvaged. Maybe he'd even be able to save that freak Trager from his own idiocy. If only for a little while longer.

Blaire could be satisfied with that.

…  
…

It was not uncommon for Sebastian to awake to the sounds of the world collapsing around him. He just hadn't expected it to be to the tune of Blaire's cursing again.

The swaying of the train cart had given way to horrible shuddering jolts that jarred Sebastian from his light sleep. Dazed he looked up, just able to make out Blaire's form in front of the controls, trying to salvage the situation that had already slipped too far out of his control. Confused Sebastian wondered what was going on right up until the moment something once again struck the train.

A loud explosion followed quickly by a massive heave of the train, very nearly toppling it off the tracks. It was a blast similar to this that had initial jerked Sebastian awake, the second blow knocked the sleepy haze right out of his head. Not alert Sebastian leapt up to his feet, only to be taken off balance a moment later as the train shook with the force of a third blow to its side, the other one this time.

Alarms were screaming in the distance and through the chaos Sebastian could hear Blaire's furious voice snapping over the radio at splicers only vaguely coherent enough to understand. It was then that Sebastian realized the cause of these attacks couldn't be regular splicers, not even a Houdini splicer could manage a incinerator blast of the magnitude required to rock the entire train. This was something else again.

Realizing Sebastian was up, Blaire whipped around, one hand still firmly on the controls, the other steadying himself against the wall. "Kid-!" He began but the words were torn away from him as the train's outer shell finally gave away under the fourth and most vicious blast.

Sebastian heard a scream rip out of his own throat as the train came apart, flinging both men far apart, a rip appearing down the middle of the cart. Sebastian grappled for purchase but was thrown loose as his side of the train tumbled off the tracks, throwing him clean into the air.

The world toppled out form under him, becoming little more than a blur of flames and flying debris as Sebastian's body was tossed clear of the tracks. He hit the ground with a horrible snap, back being flung out straight with the impact before the force that hurled him dragged Sebastian further along the ground. Twice more he bounced before finally coming to land flat against a wall.

Ears ringing, world swimming and the taste of blood flooding his mouth, Sebastian's gradually forced his head up. Neck craning and straining with the effort of looking up. What he saw in his dizzy vision was the ruins of their train. Splicers were running wild, shrieking and wailing as they rushed about with no real direction. It was not all that unlike their reactions to big daddies. A frantic scramble for ADAM coupled with the need to not be crushed by a big daddies drill.

But it was no Rumbler's canon that had brought them down. No, even as his mind reeled from the crash Sebastian was just able to make out a distinctly human shape by the wreckage. Granted they were a massive person, easily twice Sebastian's size and likely just as powerful as they looked. The person was crouched down, looking at the ruins of the train, idly picking through the debris. Sebastian watched in confusion as splicers flung themselves as the massive hulk of a person only to be easily swatted away. Most left without their heads, Sebastian idly remembered the breaking a splicer's neck not too long ago. It was no easy task, but this man simply removed heads from them, pulled and twisted and that was that. Dead was dead. The sheer amount of strength behind this man's actions was terrifying.

Still confused from his fall, Sebastian dragged in a broken gasp for air, fearing there'd been some real internal damage this time. He hadn't died once since he and Blaire set out on this path, he'd rather not put a black mark on that running high score. Slowly the blond heaved his body upright, the effort of pulling himself away from the wall he'd been thrown against nearly causing him to see stars. But Sebastian persisted and before long he managed to hobble back to his own two feet.

He would have been content to leave the beat of a man to his work. To walk the other way and see if he could make it the hell out of there before things got worse. Truly he would have but Sebastian made the mistake of glancing back towards the torn up train. Back towards where the mountain man lingered and among the ruins of their transport – there was Blaire.

It was as though Sebastian had forgotten how to walk. How to so much as breathe as he saw Blaire lying there. Likely he'd been thrown out just as Sinclair had been, his body wasn't built to withstand the same level of punishment that Sebastian's was and it clearly showed. Blaire was still breathing, still trying to get his bearings back if the clenching of his fingers was anything to go by. But he wasn't moving anywhere fast and Sebastian saw with startling clarity what would happen next.

Jeremy Blaire would die. This splicer that had so easily swatted away and killed the smaller ones would close the distance between itself and Blaire, reach down and promptly remove the man's head from his shoulders. Just as it had all the others.

And Sebastian could just walk away. Could just let it happen, slowly find his way back to Apollo Square however he could, find his family again. Forget all about his kindly master and his less than kindly words.

The beast took another step towards Blaire,

He _could_ …

Its fingers reaching towards Blaire's more than fragile throat,

He _should_ …

And Blaire twitched.

 _Sebastian_ _couldn't_.

It was with a deafening roar that he barely recognized as his own voice, likening it to the horrifying sounds Billy had made as he came screeching like a bat out of hell to protect Wernicke from his brother, that Sebastian lit up his hand and by extension the world. The beast barely managed to turn before the fire came hurling, bright and scorching in its direction.

Howling in pain the creature's hands wrenched up to it's face where the flames licked at its flesh. Any other splicer would have been engulfed in the inferno, but this one was too big. Too strong for that, the flames stung horribly but it kept on standing, at least until the monster that had thrown it came rushing forward only a second later.

Racing straight up to the large splicer, Sebastian leapt forward, boot jamming into its piggish face and sending it hurling back into the wreckage of a train it had single handled brought down in an attempt to get to Blaire. Call it a conflict of interests, but Sinclair took exception to that.

The beast's body hit hard, sending rumbling tremors out through the ground. As it snarled and groaned in equal parts agony and rage, Sebastian's body postured itself over top his master. Defensively curling into a crouch, guarding Blaire from any further harm while his eyes stayed fixated on the biggest threat in the room.

In response to the beast's guttural roars, Sebastian produced another vicious snarl from low in his throat. The sound so far from human he might have been repulsed by himself were there any time to consider himself. Instead Sinclair's wide eyes were pinned on the massive man as he righted himself once again, brushing rubble from his broad shoulders.

"Little ghost…" Sebastian didn't understand the words, didn't comprehend what they may have meant to this creature. Nothing else registered except the roll of the beast's shoulders and the promise of a further fight. "Come here." The man growled, nothing comforting about those orders. "I can help you, come here. You won't need to kill yourself. I'll make the pain stop."

Sebastian saw the man's hand beginning to smolder and in a split second lunged. Couldn't let that heat get any closer to the prone body he'd stationed himself over. Had to extinguish it at the source to keep his master safe. Had to kill the source.

Leaping forward Sebastian met with heat and pain almost immediately. The man's massive hands being more a weapon than any plasmid. Sebastian felt the moment his mistake was fully realised, allowing the man within grabbing distance as the bone in his wrist gave away with a prominent snap. The fractured edges of his shattered writ jamming up through the flesh in his arm. Hissing a feral sound Sebastian let loose from his broken flesh a wave of bees, the little pests got into the man's open wounds. Dug their little stingers as deeply as possible into the exposed muscle of his face.

Roaring in pain and anger the beast momentarily lost its grasp of Sinclair and in an instant the man was gone. This splicer was too strong to get near but Sebastian was fast. He was fast and he was resourceful. Blue eyes darting around the environment quickly. A puddle there, a security camera in the corner – more ammunition than he'd seen in weeks.

Sinclair grinned.

"Get back here!" The man screamed as Sebastian darted out of view. "We're not done yet!" When he failed to immediately catch sight of Sinclair, the beast began rumbling under its breath "Scout the perimeter, then isolate the target." Sinclair sank behind a crumbling wall, eyes flicking between the threat, his master and the puddle. Pulling out a decoy Sebastian tossed the plasmid up, lingering it in the center of the puddle and then in the next moment switched to a fist full of lightening. He waited. He waited for a pleasantly short time. "You had your chance!" The thundering steps of the man's approach was all Sinclair needed. He pulled out from behind the wall just as the beast stepped foot into the water and before he had the time to realise the extent of his error, Sinclair had lit him up with a blast of sharp white light.

Another scream came bellowing out of the beast man but Sinclair was moving again, racing for the security camera, stepping into its red glow and setting it off an instant later. It was fine a small voice rationalized in his mind. The splicers belonged to the master just like himself, they might claw and bite at him – but they would not harm the man of importance. So as they came racing out from the woodworks, accompanied with the whirl and shriek of security bots, Sinclair dodged aside most of them. Leading those that were quick enough to follow back to the beast as it dragged itself free of the electrified water.

Sinclair, in a moment of great vindictive glee, took his wrench free and sent it flying down into the beasts head. The splicer had an incredibly thick skull and left his blond attacker only momentarily stunned when it didn't immediately give away under the force of the wrench. Alarmed Sebastian skipped back a few steps, some poor rouge splicer getting in the way and taking the bone-crashing grasp that the beast had meant for him.

Squealing a high pitched wail the splicer's life ended as its head was torn straight from its shoulders. Sinclair considered this only long enough to pull up a new plasmid. The glowing green ball felt heavy in his hand. This was dangerous, he'd stocked up on EVE before leaving Blaire's penthouse but the drain on his EVE to summon a big daddy to his aid…it might just push him that little bit too far. But as he saw the beat standing upright again, fire in its hands and eyes – Sinclair took that risk. The bots his alarm had summoned were focused on the monstrous man as Sebastian raced around another corner, seaking out the low despairing moan of a big daddy. It took a very short time to locate the bouncer and although Sinclair did stop to take note of the lack of a little sister he didn't pause a second longer before throwing the hypnotize plasmid.

As the daddies lights changed from yellow to green Sebastian smiled warmly, beckoning it come closer. Once the bouncer was little more than a step away from him, lingering with a long, low groan of agony, Sinclair's hands raced up its metal exterior. "Unzip that bad man, for me?" He crooned, voice not quite his own. The trill of a littler sister's ghastly whisper somewhere in the back of his vocal cords coming out in that moment. Monsters were built from the same foundation in Rapture. Sinclair was no different.

The sounds of the security bots being torn apart faded and was quickly replaced by the pounding of the splicer's footsteps. Sinclair turned to see the beat rounding the corner, the moment it's eyes settled on him there was an overwhelming sense of rage. "Can't let contamination reach the surface." He growled and something inside of Sinclair just clicked.

Containment. Wernicke….

 _He was not come creature in need of containment. He was_ _ **not**_ _a contamination._

An unbearable fury overtook Sinclair in that moment. Feverish he began to scream. "Get him Mr. B! Get him!" The big daddy bellowed, the glow of its light burning red as its drill whirled into life. "Tear 'im into little bits!"

If possible there seemed to be a flicker of fear on the man's face. Recognizing the threat of the big daddy just before it came charging in his direction. The slam of the drill against the splicer's body would have killed anyone else. But not this one. No, too strong for that.

Instead the splicer went flying backwards, rejoining the ruins of the train he'd brought down. The big daddy was in quick pursuit with Sinclair lingering at its heels, watching for the moment the beast stopped breathing. The drill fired up again and with a loud scream the big daddy jammed it right into the splicer's chest and Sinclair let out a sound that might have been a cheer or may have been a laugh as it tore through the beast's ribcage.

Once upon a time Sebastian had died like that. Chunks of flesh flying as the drill tore straight through him. This was how the beast died, screaming in agony. The beast died knowing its job was incomplete and Sinclair sneered. "Containment." He snapped coldly as the man's corpse was left to drop to the ground with a sickening thud and splat. "Not a chance." The man was dead at his feet, the form of its killer standing over it with bits of flesh still falling from its drill and Sinclair felt little more than pride. He'd done a good job surely.

Then Sebastian's blood turned cold. "Is it really okay to touch 'im?"

Turning slowly Sinclair saw two splicers hesitantly lingering around Blaire. _Too close._

"The big man." The second chattered. "The one with the ADAM, won't notice if we steal a bit." It suggested and Sinclair's eyes turned hard, the dim blue glow cold against his face.

By his side the big daddy groaned, taking the first step forward but Sinclair ordered it still. "It's okay Mr. B." He whispered, that unnatural hum to his voice remaining. "I'm going…to make some other angels to play with."

They didn't see him coming. Didn't know Sinclair was even a threat until his hand was jammed inside their chest. The first splicer spluttered, blood spewing out of its mouth and smearing Sinclair's cheek. It was alive until the precise moment Sinclair's hand ripped free, bringing with it the cretins heart. Turning on the second Sinclair pounced.

Trying to flee the splicer squirmed and clawed at the ground but once Sinclair's fingers were around its throat, dropping to subzero temperatures in seconds, it stopped squirming. Air coming out in icy white puffs before its head was frozen solid and shattering against the ground with a single pull of Sinclair's fist.

Two down…looking up Sinclair could see other splicers. All of which were now too close to the master. This small display of disobedience, this tiny suggestion that they might raise a hand to Rapture's owner – it was enough of a threat and Sinclair's job was to extinguish them all. No matter how small.

Blaire returned to the waking world, hearing the familiar sounds of distant carnage. Not at all unusual in Rapture but given his current position the sounds of a skirmish were alarming. As quickly as he could Blaire tried to right himself. The pounding in his head and taste of blood in his throat not encouraging signs. Slowly peering past half lidded eyes Jeremy very nearly felt his soul leave his body when the first thing he saw was a big daddy.

Barely more than two steps away from him the horrendous murdering machine stood motionless. Its drill was running at high speeds, something that usually only happened when in combat but the bouncer itself wasn't moving anywhere. It didn't seemed all that fussed with Blaire being there and he couldn't see any little ones around.

Slowly gathering more of his surroundings Blaire finally laid eyes on something that was more familiar. Sinclair stood a small distance away from him. This in itself was a touch surprising, Blaire knew he must have blacked out for at least a short time – the kid bolting would have been his first expectation. But what he awoke to instead was Sinclair, hand fisted in some splicer's mouth and wrench in hand.

 _Smiling_.

Blaire could only watch, completely engrossed in what he was seeing. Sinclair raised both splicer and wrench and while the motion took a moment for Blaire to place he finally did. The kid was _batting_. He tossed the splicer up and in the same swift motion pulled his wrench forward in a bone crushing swing, the heavy weight crashing into the splicers spine, enticing a scream and a crunch as its body gave away. When its wailing attracted the attention of more splicers the kid idly turned his attention away. The sheer casualness he conducted himself with as a second splicer fell victim to a blast of fire while the first still shrieked in agony was frankly astounding.

Gradually Blaire gathered himself back to his feet, glaze flicking between the daddy and the scene unfolding in front of him. Still the beast did not move but it seemed to be watching. Paying attention just as Blaire was. This…was unsettling.

But then his attention was back on Sinclair. The man was covered in blood, not an unusual look for him but now as he stood coated in the blood of splicers he'd once sympathized with and _grinned_ …Blaire felt his air being stolen from him. The kid had just put a silence to that first splicer's sobbing when he took notice of Blaire and that smiled grew impossibly wider.

"Mr B!" He called, waving like a damn excited kid and Blaire's skin prickled at the sound of Sebastian's voice. He'd known the kid had been grown using the same ADAM based technology as little sisters but he'd never made the comparison between the two so strongly before. Sinclair seemed to realise something and laughed. "Both of you are Mr. B. How funny!" He mused beginning to approach Blaire and the big daddy.

He was maybe four feet away when a lead head splicer came flying out from behind a corner. A lead pipe crashing into Sebastian's head. The pipe actually bent on impact but Sinclair's skull was still likely no better for it.

Blaire's reaction was immediate, faster than even that of the big daddy that roared by his side. The familiar weight of a gun in his hand was comforting and as the bullet shot from the barrel of the gun, planting itself right between the splicer's eyes – it was not nearly satisfying enough.

The splicer dropped dead and the big daddy calmed down, emitting quiet moans that sounded like some warped sense of concern for its fake little sister. Blaire stepped forward, making a point to step on the dead splicer's twitching body as he did. Sinclair was standing, head bowed still tilted at the angle he'd been struck. There was a dribble of blood running down from his temple and Blaire turned the heel of his boot down on the corpse's hand as some kind of penance.

Reaching up he cupped the kids face, getting him to look up so that he could inspect the damage. Nothing Sinclair couldn't come back from. "Are you still all there, Sebastian?" He whispered the familiar words and watched with some relief as coherency returned to Sinclair's eyes and the blue glow faded. That particular phrase had never failed him before, with or without Mrs. Park's tampering.

Behind him the big daddy began to ark up again, growls of warning ripping out of its enormous mass. His response to being warded off by the underwater monstrosity was instant if just a touch illogical. "He's mine!" Blaire snapped back at the monster angrily.

Not at all calmed by Blaire's outburst the daddy took a step forward, drill beginning to spin again. Then Sinclair shifted under Blaire's hold, tired eyes opening to look at the big daddy. "I think…" He took a moment to breath, to form the words. "I think the bad man is gone, Mr. B." Those words worked a charm and the green glow of the daddy's portholes returned. A moment later Sinclair smiled gently and added. "Thank you very much, all is well now." The plasmid was cut off and that green light turned yellow.

Abruptly all interest in Sinclair and Blaire was lost, the daddy wandering off peacefully, likely to find a new monster to protect.

Blaire waited until the diving suit designed monster was a good distance away before looking at Sinclair again. The kid was back in his own head but oh god he was still covered in blood. Every inch of him screaming of the carnage he'd endured and dished out. Blaire thought of what he'd seen, the kid tearing through splicers with a smile…his monster killing everything in sight, just for him.

It did him in.

"Kid, come here." Sebastian wasn't given the chance to even consider disobeying as Blaire reached out, snaring him by the front of his hoodie and dragging him down into a crushing kiss.

Surprise briefly registered in Sebastian's body, he was tense and not responding to Blaire's kiss as he ought to be. It wasn't until he bit at the blonde's soft lips hard enough to bruise that he broke from his stupor. There was fear behind his movements, hesitation as he allowed Blaire access to his mouth. A sane person would have understood it, would have been scared when they were pressed against a cold wall, surrounded by the bodies of people they'd killed. Oh but that ship had sailed years go and Blaire didn't so much as blink as they stepped over corpses that were still warm.

Instead he was focused on pressing Sinclair back into the closest solid object. The kid squirmed just a bit, writhing as his back was pressed flat to the ball behind him and gasping into Blaire's mouth, as each touch laid against him was a rough one. Sebastian's fingers came up to meekly rest against Blaire's shoulders, twitching with the intention to shove but never following through with the desire. Instead those lithe fingers twitched until they curled tight into Blaire's shirt, clinging where they ought to push.

He was shivering when Blaire broke the kiss, immediately turning his attention to the blonde's pale throat, laying down bites and kisses in equal measure. The shivering turned to trembling and what had been small gasps became little whines and moans. Not a single one without just a touch of fear, or confusion. Blaire didn't sympathize; he was as aggravated as he was endeared by the monster under his hands. A creature that had no right to look so perfect when it was in the midst of a nightmare. No right to look so beautiful as it killed for him.

It was as though the murderous smiling creature he'd witnessed had died in that moment, leaving behind the kid that shook under his hold and let out little moans when a kiss was placed against the side of his throat. Blaire already knew the kid had been designed for him at birth, but even now it felt too perfect. It felt like no single person could be this perfectly crafted to for him. To dish out brutality and weakness in equal measure, just to suit Blaire's needs. His perfect little monster.

"B-Blaire...!" Sinclair gasped as his hoodie was pushed upwards roughly.

For all the kid's complaints Jeremy barely even hesitated for a second, instead the bloodied white fabric was dragged higher, exposing milky white flesh to the icy air of Rapture. The little cry Sinclair mustered up was cut short as Blaire turned his attentions to his vulnerable flesh. The shaking became worse as Blaire pressed his hot tongue against Sinclair's naturally cold skin. The resulting burn causing the blonde to whine out quietly. Wanting to hear a bit more of those sounds licks became bites and Jeremy was rewarded with whines becoming cries.

His pale, bruised body was rapidly flushing red and Blaire smirked into the kid's skin, taking a quick look back up at his face. He was unsurprised but no less pleased to see the lost overwhelmed look on Sebastian's furiously blushing face. There was even the beginning of tears again and Blaire chuckled, he'd hardly done anything and already Sinclair was losing it.

Damn in experienced brat.

"You kill people every day, but you can't stand a little bit of touching?" Blaire scoffed, hands racing up the kid's sides, pausing for just a moment as they passed over a sizable bruise some splicer had no doubt caused.

Above him Sinclair balked at the words. "It's not the same!" He protested and for once Blaire was pleased he'd retained that voice and some freewill to use it. Otherwise how would he ever get to hear ridiculous shit like that? The urge to just press in against that bruise to see Sinclair scream was nearly overwhelming. But this time Blaire let the desire drop away, being quickly replaced with a second one.

He had intended for the hold to be rough when he snatched at Sinclair's wrists, but the chilling cry of pain he got from Sebastian was not at all the reaction he'd expected. A little bit alarmed, Blaire glanced to where his fingers curled around Sinclair's wrist and found that his left hand was broken. He'd not noticed it, the injury lost amongst all the blood and bruising, but Sebastian was twisting in agony now that pressure had been applied to the break. Blaire could hardly fault him for that, it was already turning an ugly shade of purple, swelling horribly.

So, despite his desire to just hold the boy right where he was, Jeremy's finger's turned lax around Sinclair's damaged wrist. "Now how did you manage this?" He cooed gently, but didn't wait for a proper answer. Sinclair did try to muster one but the words choked off when Jeremy pressed a gentle kiss to the damaged skin. The sound becoming something near a sob, too overwhelmed. Too much pain being met with tenderness to mess with the kid's head.

It was only right to reward his pet monster when he'd done so well after all.

Sinclair was nothing like the blood soaked creature he'd awoken to. He mewled and whined when Blaire pressed his knee in between his legs, keeping them parted as he continued to pull away the bloodied fabric of his clothes. It was intoxicating, knowing how much power was currently under his hands and how helpless Sinclair was to use it.

Where he should have been able to defend himself, push Blaire away as his logic no doubt demanded he try doing – Sinclair only shivered and accepted each touch laid against his skin.

Pressing Sinclair against the wall, back exposed to Jeremy's eyes he could feel the shame burning hot just under the kid's skin. Could feel it pouring off of him in waves as he wrapped an arm around Sinclair's shoulders. He flinched, wound his body up tight and cried out when Jeremy's fingers dipped down between his legs. The sound gave away to a breathless gasp and Jeremy chuckled. "You'd think that by now you would trust me with this kid." He commented idly, amused when he got a pitiful little glare out of the corner of Sinclair eye.

"Damn it Blaire." Sinclair bit out, voice shaking. "We-…for god's sake we're outside!"

The answering grin did nothing to sooth Sebastian's nerves. "Shy are we?" He mocked, two fingers pushing inside of Sinclair abruptly. Pulling another cry of shock out of Sinclair's mouth before he bit down on his lip, trying to stifle the sounds. The efforts fell just a bit too short as Jeremy's fingers twisted inside of him, pumping in and out viciously before finding what he was looking for. The little bundle of nerves made Sebastian see stars and he damn near screamed again. "Scared someone might come along and hear that?" Blaire mocked him; now that his fingers had found that weakness inside of his body they continuously abused it.

The effort Sinclair put into not making another sound was admirable but ultimately fell short as a series of desperately hushed moans began to force their way out of his throat. The longer Blaire's hands gave him sweet abuse, the harder silence became. All the while Jeremy was murmuring horrible little suggestions to him. Fears of being seen, of someone seeing how perfectly and inexcusably owned he was. The thought alone had Sinclair's face bright red and trying to hide in his arms as he braced against the wall Blaire seemed fully intent of fucking him into.

"Ha, I don't think so." Blaire's hand rose to catch Sinclair's wrist when he tried to muffle his own voice by covering his mouth. There was a little cry of protest before Blaire's fingers gave another sharp thrust into the blonde's body, breaking the sound into a desperate moan. "No hiding from me, kid." Planting Sinclair's misbehaving hand flat against the wall by his head, Blaire's fingers curled in-between the gaps of Sinclair's fingers, holding him there as more desperate noises came pouring out of his lips.

Sinclair's body was slipping away from him, beginning to shake uncontrollably and Jeremy was sure that the kid had no idea he was pushing back in the invading fingers. Desperate for just a little more of those fleeting touches against his prostate. The thought of pulling away did cross Blaire's mind, a more reasonable part of him realising how dangerously close the kid was to coming undone. But then that once reasonable part of Jeremy glanced at Sinclair's trembling body, caught the wanton look on his face and decided that was absolutely nothing wrong with fucking the kid with his fingers until he came. It just meant he'd be completely mindless for what came next.

Smirking Blaire listened as Sebastian's pants began to fall apart into a string of breathless pleas as his fingers stopped moving, leaving the kid stranded. "J-Jeremy-! Plea…ah! _Please_!" Viciously Blaire pretended to consider his options, worse still pretended not to understand exactly what it was the boy was sobbing for. "Need to- oh god, I need to, please!"

"I don't think I quite understand you." He said cruelly, listening as Sebastian's voice broke down into a quiet babble of no's. "Try asking again, kid."

"I want to cum!" He cried out pitifully, shaking violently under Blaire's hands. Desperate for his release. "Please, please just let me…oh Christ—please Jeremy. I want, I w-want…!"

And wasn't Blaire just the kindest man for giving the kid what he wanted. Thrusting his fingers back inside of the Sebastian's begging body, Jeremy set a vicious pace. Each push of his fingers dragging across that little sweet spot he'd found. As reward Sinclair let out what must have been the happiest, neediest moans Jeremy had ever heard. He didn't last long after that and Jeremy knew without a doubt that the kid was definitely seeing stars as his back arched and a single loud, breathing moan slipped off his tongue.

Jeremy grins at the sight. He was sure there was nothing sweeter in this hell of a place than seeing Sinclair moaning and straining under him.

What was a step better was the fact the kid seemed to think it ended there. Blaire was more than happy to be the one to disillusion him.

"W-What?" Sinclair yelped, eyes going wide as he felt something far bigger than just Blaire's fingers pushing inside of him. Panicked he feebly tried to reach back to push at Blaire's chest. "N-No, Jeremy! I can't, I _can't_...!"

"You most certainly fucking can and you will." Jeremy grit out, pushing inside of Sebastian's still twitching body inch by inch. It was almost more than he could stand, feeling Sinclair's body yielding to him even as his voice said otherwise.

A low curse of appreciation slipped out of Blaire's mouth as he bottomed out, still able to feel Sebastian's walls twitching and tightening around him in the aftershock of his orgasm. The heat and tightness alone had nearly done him in but adding on top of that everything else and it was no small feat to keep himself together. All the while he had to keep listening to Sebastian's babbling. He was mindless in that moment and Blaire didn't think he'd ever heard the kid being more honest with him.

Over stimulated and now letting loose mindlessly desperate sounds, Sinclair looked caught somewhere between hell and heaven. Reaching down Jeremy curled an arm around the kid's shoulders, pulling him up so his burning back was pressed flush against his body. With that same hand he tilted Sinclair's head up and pressed him into a heavy kiss. Those little cries of desperation being lost in the kiss. For all his protests Sebastian's lips parted the moment Jeremy wanted them.

Blaire doesn't say it as he thrusts into the kid, doesn't even tell him why he's got him pressed into a dirty wall out in the open roads of Pauper's Drop. Doesn't tell him how fucking desperately he needed the kid after he saw what he'd done. Men killed for Atlas out of loyalty. Men died for Blaire out of fear. But this one…Blaire didn't even know what to call this kid fighting for him. It's almost more than he can bare, knowing how viciously Sinclair would fight for him even as he no doubt prayed for Blaire's death every morning when he awoke and every night when he passed back out.

Each push of his hips has Sebastian jerking against the wall, wailing in such a pretty voice as his attempts to hush himself were forgotten. "That's it, kid. That's it, you're all mine kid." Blaire muttered near mindless himself as he drives into Sebastian hard and possessive, again and again. Each snap of his hips no doubt bruising. "You're going to be a good boy and cum for me again, right now."

He wants to see it. Wants to see this killing machine that is capable of so much brutality reduced to little more than a moaning mess under his hands. There's a feverish desire burning away inside of his gut as he fucks the kid into the wall, a need to leave proof on the kid's body. To engrave the thought into every inch of the kid's mind. To remind everyone that this one is his. All _his_.

"I-I can't!" Sebastian tried to argue, the words getting lost somewhere in his breathless moaning as his body began to tremble more violently. For all his protests of 'cant' when Blaire reached down to touch his neglected cock his body all but immediately betrayed him. Curling into Blaire's touch as his hips slowly pumped into his fist, desperate for just a little more attention.

He was about to come apart again, likely didn't even realise it, likely thought he was just going insane as he got closer. And he was, he was so fucking close that Blaire could actually fucking feel it in the way his both twisted under him. "Yes you can." He repeated in a low growl leaning in close to Sebastian, licking across the shell of his ear before continuing. "Right fucking now, Sebastian."

The words would you kindly never even passing his lips. Just another roll of his hips and the kid came apart.

Sebastian practically fucking screams as his second release hits him like a freight train. Back curling against Blaire's body in that way he just god damn adores, every muscle pulled tight as he cums running on little more than fumes at this point. Jeremy spits out another curse as an already tight body clenching even tighter around him. He wouldn't have minded fucking Sebastian through his second round and right into a third just to see if he could really get him crying but it was all just a little bit too much for him when he heard the kid's voice crying out his name through the high. If that chant was Sebastian cursing him or begging for him Blaire didn't really care, just so long as he kept calling his name in that pretty voice of his.

It's all he needs to follow quickly after him, pressing a vicious bite into the curve of Sebastian's neck and growling out a long string of expletives followed immediately by the single word of _mine_ as he rides out the aftershocks.

As it ends Sebastian turns limp in Blaire's arms, sagging between the wall and the warm body still holding him steady, panting as though he'd just run twice around Rapture itself. For a moment Blaire stays there, arms still firm around the shivering blonde with his forehead resting against his shoulder. It's warm and soft and Blaire would have been happy to stay there for hours. But unfortunately it was also among the ruins of Rapture and the chill in the air would set in eventually.

He's actually a little surprised when its Sebastian that speaks first. "You fucking animal…" The kid grouses, voice still an absolute wreck from all his screaming.

Blaire only smirks into the kid's shoulder, thinking his sulking more adorable than anything else. He could let him off with a bit of mouthy behaviour while still enjoying the afterglow. "You know, you were far more appealing when you couldn't say a word." He lies in a slow drawl, just picking at the kid's sore spots.

His reward is a little growl that is not nearly as intimidating as Sebastian must think it is and more bitter words. "And you were a lot more appealing when you were dead." He snips and Blaire's whole body rumbles with his answering laugh. Any other time he might have torn into the kid for that kind of lip, but he was feeling particularly generous right now and it'd be a lie to say the words weren't a little bit endearing.

Thinking back on it now he regrets stealing the kid's voice. Just imagine all the stupid little things he would have said to Atlas. That thought keeps him in a good mood long after the glow of sex fades.

…  
…

Blaire's mood had become unbearably sunny and Sebastian had little choice but to tolerate this all the way through Pauper's Drop.

While Blaire was content to just waltz right though the ruins, not a care in the world, Sebastian was a little less easygoing as they passed through what had once been the slums of Rapture. Sinclair was astounded by it, so much so that he actually asked. "I thought Rapture was utopia…" He murmured, staring up at an old building. Father Martin's Home For All. Some kind of hotel built entirely out of cheap materials and marketed as a luxury accommodation.

Blaire paused, glancing back at Sebastian and following his gaze. "Murkoff never did care much about the working class." He explained with a careless shrug. "They built Rapture but once the work was finished, most of them got forgotten down here. Cheap labour at best, vermin at worst. Most of the people that lived here came into my employ as a matter of fact." Blaire added with a mirthless grin. "Best job they ever got I'd wager."

It was Sinclair's turn to scowl at Jeremy now. "You killed your workers."

"True, but I also paid 'em." And as though that was redemption enough Blaire turned away from the wreckage of the slums and continued walking.

Sebastian begrudgingly conceded that perhaps Blaire had a point. As ruthless as he'd been when in charge and for all the lies he told as Atlas – he'd still been a god send for people like this. People Murkoff preferred to be swept under the rug. They'd forced people to take drastic measures just to get by, they'd given Blaire all the power he needed without even knowing it.

Sadly Sebastian took one last look at the home. For a moment he swore he could see something moving from the corner of his eyes. Instinctively Sebastian moved for his wrench, wincing as he jostled his haphazardly bandaged wrist. The injuries he'd sustained fighting Walker – whom Jeremy had been horrified to see laying in a pool of his own blood – were still aching. Blaire had thrown a small fit at the sight, demanding to know how long he'd been out for, Sebastian was a little confused by the reaction.

Although thinking about it now he should have understood. Chris Walker, the beast of a man, was something of a known nightmare around Rapture. Sebastian was not surprised by this, he distantly recalled seeing him separate splicers heads from their bodies with ease and he knew perfectly well how difficult that was to do.

It was only when Jeremy's ranting turned into excitement and glee that Sebastian relaxed. He was not angry with Sebastian for having the big daddy kill Walker, quite the opposite. He was simply in disbelief the mountain of a man was dead, thinking it would have been impossible before this.

Regardless the encounter left Sebastian a little worse for wear and that had him more on edge. Knowing he'd have to be more vigilant if he wasn't at his best. However the shadow he'd seen skipping just out of view didn't belong to a splicer or unseen threat. Instead Sebastian found himself staring at…well for lack of a better explanation, a ghost.

The eerie white figure lingered by the street corners, no bigger than a little sister and laughing. Sebastian stared, unable to so much as blink while watching the thing. The ghost ran through the streets, as if it existed in a world where the decay and rubble didn't yet exist. It laughed and rushed past Sinclair, he felt a chill race up his spine where it brushed by his arm and nearly screamed when a moment later something solid grasped his shoulder.

Whirling around he ended up facing a perplexed and faintly annoyed Blaire. "What are you loitering for?" He asked flatly, taking stock of Sebastian's terrified eyes. It took a moment but some kind of understanding gradually crossed his face. "Seeing ghosts are we? Wondered when you would, effect of the ADAM. It's just some kind of genetic throw back, they aren't your memories, kid. So don't bother with them."

"I saw a girl." Was all he could say.

"Figured as much." Blaire sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Don't let it worm under your skin or anything, Sinclair. But remember there was a time where Rapture did actually have little girls. Real little girls, not those genetic freaks. Of course you'd be seeing them, the ADAM in your system practically makes you little freaks all family."

He couldn't even muster up the anger at listening to Blaire talk ill of himself or the sisters. Instead all Sebastian could feel was a horrible hollowed feeling in his gut. Thinking about the laughter of that girl, a girl that once upon a time was very real running through even very streets.

"This place could have been so beautiful…"

The words were spoken in a hushed whisper, the heartbroken tone catching Blaire a little off guard. With another sigh he ran his fingers back through his hair, watching the kid as all that sadness washed over him. Damn bleeding heart that he was. Muttering under his breath about how un-fucking-believable the kid was, Blaire reached out catching Sinclair by the back of his head. Fingers tangling in his matted hair to drag him forward. Sebastian went without complaint, knowing if he made a fuss Blaire could simply strip away his will with a word.

Forehead pressed gently against the kid's Blaire made sure to keep Sebastian's eyes on him. Refusing to let him look away, at the ruins of a broken Utopia. "Focus." He said simply, the words stern but not quite harsh. "Once Rapture is right back under my thumb, things will change. Just a little more to go."

Blue eyes sought out a lie in Jeremy's. Searching for any sign that it was another trick, finding nothing Sebastian relaxed slightly. Idiot should have known that even if Blaire had uttered nothing but falsehoods for the rest of his natural life, it would never show on his face. He was too good for that. But for now it was fortunate for Sinclair that he was not lying. Just this once.

"Come on." Releasing blonde hair, Blaire stepped away and continued forward. He listened and was pleased when he heard Sinclair's obedient footsteps trailing after him.

If Pauper's Drop was the slums of Rapture, then that made Blaire Industries and Persephone the god damn gates to damnation.

Sebastian cringed as they approached what would have been the final resort for so many Rapture citizens. Risking a glance over at Blaire he saw the man was going through a rather different emotional reaction to being back here.

"Place looks like shit." He commented dryly, taking in the state of his once booming industry.

As he stepped through the doors, a king returning to a decrepit castle, Blaire looked rather aggravated with the state of the place. Sebastian thought that all things considered it had survived surprisingly well. There weren't quite as many leaks and not nearly the same number of bodies littered around. Granted most of the lights were out and the place smelt of the same stale air as the rest of Rapture – but keeping in mind it could have very well have been underwater by this point Sebastian thought they were doing quite well.

Stepping into the main hall Blaire stalked right up to a globe set in the middle of the room, giving it a little tap. Sebastian kept well back, allowing Blaire the room he needed to inspect what had once been an important place to him.

Honestly it was more consideration than the bastard deserved but Blaire in a sunny mood was irritating, him in a foul mood was disastrous.

Leaving Blaire to his scrutiny of old sights, Sebastian was able to have a proper look around as well. This place must have been amazing before the fall of Rapture. Large staircases leading up towards the massive curve of the ceiling adorned with windows. Frankly it was just the kind of grandeur that Blaire liked and Sebastian could have done without.

Then there was the echo of a speaker being turned on. The sound jarred Sebastian back into a defensive stance, looking around for any sign the noise meant they would be getting company, while Blaire merely glanced up towards the closest speaker with a scowl.

"Ah…and so the fake apostle returns."

A gentle voice came across the active line, filling up the previously silent hall. Jeremy's expression darkened further while Sebastian remained in the dark, never having heard this voice before. Never even in an audio diary, unusual considering it seemed everyone in Rapture had left their voice imprinted on those boxes. Certainly anyone still sane enough to talk over the speakers to them.

"I know you." The man murmured, a note of fury entering the quiet words. "Your arrogance marks you a dead man. Just as the chains on that child's wrists, marks him an angel."

Instinctively Sebastian's hand whipped up to cover his wrist, although it was a moot point. He could nearly feel the ink burning beneath the skin. The icy trickle of dread down his spine was not all that unlike the fear he'd felt the first time Blaire had pulled out his gun after their little lesson in the vita-chamber. It was all consuming and Sebastian could not put his finger on what it was about the unknown man's words that struck such a deep cord inside of him.

Blaire spared him a glance from the corner of his eye before turning his gaze back upwards and addressing the disembodied voice. "Martin." Blaire stepped forward, voice nearly jovial before turning hostile. "Do believe this is _still_ my property."

"Murkoff seized this company after your first death, heathen."

This was father Martin? The man that Miles and spoken so poorly of? Sebastian knew he should be taking that information and making something of it but he was still anchored in place, caught between Martin's hushed words and Blaire's confident responses.

"And yet here I am, alive and telling you to get out. You and the rest of your freaky cult. Maybe you haven't heard the news, but Rapture belongs to me now, there isn't any room for you lunatics anymore." For a man in his position, Blaire was still somehow able to posture himself as though he was larger than life. Sebastian wasn't feeling nearly as brave as Jeremy sounded.

Across the speakers there was a sigh with just an edge of anger to it. " _You_ …" Father Martin hissed out. "You, the man who would stand in the place of the witness, the man who would shackle a god. There is no place for such a man in Utopia."

"And just like that he's lost me. Fucking lunatic." Blaire muttered before turning to face Sebastian again. "Kid! Get your head back in your skull, we're moving."

In response to Blaire's call, Sebastian's senses returned to him and he began to move again. The comparison of a well trained dog briefly coming to mind, just to make him feel sick to his stomach.

Oh but Father Martin wasn't done.

"Oh dear child, you have suffered greatly at the hands of man. But take heart: Out of your pain, the path to paradise was pathed."

Every nerve in Sebastian's body was alight, and although he knew he ought to try and block out the madman's ramblings they managed to seep into his mind. Saturating every thought and taking up residency in the places where there ought to have been rational thought. He was terrified of Blaire, always had been, but there was something in the insane holy man's quiet words that created a whole different kind of fear.

It was not unlike the uncertainty that Wernicke had prompted in Sinclair towards the end. When he held a great truth over him only to reveal it when everything had already slipped too far out of control. Like Gluskin's gleefully harboring that same secret just to see what would happen when it all came out.

Now there was Martin, speaking in that same knowing tongue. Sebastian had long since given up dismissing the words of insane men. Unfortunately they likely knew more about him than he himself did.

The abject horror that had settled over Sebastian was poor concealed and Blaire picked up on it in an instant. "Sinclair." His keeper barked sharply. "Don't listen to that whackjob, would you kindly?" And just like that it became easier to tune Martin out and for once Sebastian felt relief in place of rage at hearing the familiar trigger phrase.

With his own mind warping itself to obey the command, shutting out Martin for him, Sinclair was free to rejoin Blaire and focus on the job at hand. But even as each of the mad priest's words turned to static between his ears, Sinclair could just feel the trickle of uncertainty down his spine. Where did the insane ramblings end and the truth begin?

Evidentially Blaire was not wholly satisfied with the extent of his order and after they'd passed into a second room, stopped to snatch Sinclair's arm. His thumb digging painfully into the ink chain etched into his wrist. Wincing at the sharp bite of Blaire's nail, Sinclair glanced up uncertainly. Had he done something wrong and not realised it?

What he was met with was Blaire's steely eyes and a hard expression that he expected might have something to do with trepidation as much as it did anger. "Still with me?" Blaire asked shortly before adding a little more slowly. "Are you still all there?" And for the first time Sinclair began to take notice of that particular phrase. Blaire said it quite a lot didn't he? Whenever he did…things became clear again. Bringing the world back into sharp focus where it had threatened to slip away for a moment.

The ache in his wrist from the harsh hold became a sharp pain as the disconnect between reality and himself was broken. What had been a slight wince became a verbal protest and Sinclair fingers twitched towards Blaire's hand not quite brave enough to try and pry him off.

This was the correct reaction and Blaire's grasp gradually eased off the pressure. No longer threatening to leave bruises in the shape of his fingers.

But he did not release Sinclair.

Instead Blaire turned on his heel without a word and continued to pull Sinclair by the hand through the ruins of his company. Martin was still talking and judging by the tense lock of Jeremy's jaw none of it was good but Sebastian was still unable to make sense of the jumbled words under Blaire's orders. Stumbling after his master Sinclair remained silent as Martin's verses washed nonsensically over him.

He was being anchored by two distinct things. The phrase and Blaire's hand around his wrist.

"Does he ever shut up?" Blaire's voice was clear and irritated as it broke clean through the buzz that was Martin's tirade.

Then there was a shriek of a splicer and both men leapt back in alarm, Blaire narrowly missing the sharpened edge of a butcher's knife as he stumble back. Swearing viciously the man pulled his gun and with marksmanship that Sinclair hadn't known Blaire possessed, put a bullet through the mad thing's throat.

The gurgling sound was reminiscent of the sound Sebastian had made as he put a letter opener through his windpipe and left him shuddering in disgust as the memory. Unlike the monster, this splicer did not have the good fortune to come back good as new in a vita-chamber and instead dropped dead and cold onto the floor.

"Fucking—god damn it. Martin's loons don't even listen to me…" Furious and clearly rattled, Blaire began to curse realising the extent of his control was diminished by Martin's influence.

They obeyed Jeremy for the most part, but religion could be an extraordinary motivator. Enough that it could convince splicer's to attack Rapture's master and even turn away from a good source of ADAM. At least most of the time.

At first Sebastian didn't think much of Blaire's surprise, beyond the fact he'd managed to protect himself before he actually had to step in and do it. But then he noticed that Blaire's fingers were still taunt around his wrist, having tightened slightly during the initial shock of the attack. Rather than letting go he'd held tighter and now…now he was trembling.

It was barely noticeable, Sebastian would have missed it entirely had the man's hand not been locked around his arm. The tremor was minute, nearly indistinguishable. But sure enough, it was there.

Jeremy Blaire was trembling.

This little piece of news was a little bit earth shattering for Sebastian who had, at least on some superficial level, believed Blaire to be infallible. Damn near inhuman in the way he processed things like fear. But there he was, clearly alarmed and struggling to come back from a fright that would have sent any normal person's heart ponding.

All Sinclair could do was stare at Jeremy, taking notice of the small splash of blood that had dotted across his cheek. Either it was blood still fresh that had flown off the splicer's cleaver as it flew harmlessly past it's target or it was evidence of that same splicer being put down by Blaire. It didn't seem like he knew it was there, leaving the splash of blood to cool and harden against his cheek. Jeremy would have noticed were he not currently still so focused on his own quaking.

Was….was the master of Rapture just a _man_?

 _No gods, no kings…._

In an instant Sebastian was moving forward, the wrist that had been lax in Blaire's hold flicking out of his fingers.

Ignoring his master's initial snarl of alarm and confusion, Sebastian's deft fingers flipped the hand that had held him, reversing the positions with one minor adjustment. Where Blaire had held him by the wrist like an insolent child, Sebastian slid his fingers in between Blaire's and squeezed.

Sure that it was disbelief that kept Blaire from immediately tearing into Sebastian for acting on his own freewill, the blonde monster didn't slow to give him the time to cultivate the anger he'd eventually express.

Somewhere up above Martin's lecture was still playing, still little more than a nonsensical hum in his ears. It was easier to ignore Martin now as the hand that wasn't tightly grasping Jeremy's began to play host to a nest of furious hornets. The familiar holes and the creatures that scuttled in and out from under his flesh rising to the surface as Sebastian pulled Jeremy deeper into Martin's new house of gods.

When there was even so much as a footstep that did not belong to either of them, Sinclair sent the bugs out into the air. He didn't stop moving when the screaming began. The splicers that fell victim to his plasmid created hordes might have been under Blaire's control, they might be Martin's followers – Sinclair let the hornets loose on them indiscriminately.

Because he thought of Martin's follower that tried to cleave Blaire in half and then he thought of the splicers that had gotten too close to Jeremy when he was unable to defend himself. They might as well all be enemies as far as Sebastian was concerned.

Behind him Jeremy was cursing, asking a question along the lines of what the hell had gotten into him. But he didn't give a trigger phrase or an irrefutable order and so Sinclair was free to answer.

"They all die." Was what he said, voice hard and unrelenting. "They _all_ die and I get you to Persephone without a scratch."

There was a moment of silence but Jeremy's steps behind him became smoother, no longer stumbling or confused by the change in pace. And then, _finally_ , Jeremy's fingers stopped trembling. Nestled safely in his monster's gentle grasp.

…

…

Rapture was a mess of bodies and blood – and Sinclair was soaked in it all once again.

While he focused on keeping the splicers a good few meters away at all times, there were those special few that managed to get close enough to taste the blow of Sinclair's wrench. The flecks of blood along his cheek were beginning to harden and flake before too long, but the thicker portions of the sticky red liquid was still stubbornly clinging between his fingers, making Sinclair hesitate to touch Blaire again.

But the older man showed no such reservations, snatching at Sebastian's hand the moment any given assault had ended. It should be expected he supposed, Blaire had more than his fair share of blood on his hands even if it didn't always show. He was hardly precious about it. Although Sebastian still cringed on Blaire's behalf when his hands were dirtied.

"You hear that?" Blaire asked abruptly and Sebastian hesitated for just a moment. Listening to the sounds of Rapture groaning and leaking, but sure enough he could just make out the far off echo of a big daddy's wail.

Initially Sebastian thought to avoid the tin daddy, unwilling to take Blaire anywhere near that kind of fight. Splicers were easy, an elite bouncer's drill a little less so.

However when the daddy's groan came rumbling down the halls again, Sebastian heard something else. Something brighter, happier – a child.

There was a little sister with the daddy.

Immediately his mind shot back to the conversation he'd held with the Park's. Lisa had said there were at least a few sisters left in Persephone that they hadn't been able to reach. This would be one of them. If Sinclair could just…if he could just get to her, send the child back Lisa's way…

It would be one less thing tethering those few friends he had to the broken city.

Torn between keeping Blaire out of harms way and getting to the girl, Sebastian turned still. Mind racing to weigh up the risk of either option. Thankfully he was still just a monster on a leash and the decision ultimately fell to Blaire. "Go on then." He instructed sharply. "I watched you bring down plenty of those things, what's one more?"

Permission, damn near encouragement, given and Sebastian was moving. Quicker now, steps more urgent the closer they got to the roar of the daddy and the happy, distorted singing voice of the little sister. Once the beast actually came into view, Sebastian held close to the corner between them and the roaming pair.

Blaire's hand was still in his own and Sebastian gingerly forced himself to release his owner. He couldn't be keeping a hold of Blaire while fighting with the metal monstrosity. Glancing around Sebastian's eyes landed on a vita-chamber on the opposite side of the room. Good, if things went south he could come back before actually losing sight of the fight he'd lost.

Silently Sebastian pointed towards the vita-chamber. Catching Blaire's eye and waiting for the understanding to settle in. The man's sharp eyes took in the situation quickly and finally he nodded. "Try not to make too much of a fuck up of it, would you kindly?" As though he needed the command, regardless Sebastian nodded stiffly and waited for Blaire to leave his side, making his way over to the glow of the chamber.

It would give Sebastian peace of mind to know where Blaire was and that if he did so happen to 'fuck up' he'd be returning right by the man's side. Able to immediately defend him should the need arise.

With Blaire taken care of, Sinclair's gaze turned back to the little sister and the big daddy. The quiet humming of the child hung in the air as the sharp squelch as she buried the needle into a corpse – calling it an angel as she did. He had not saved a sister since coming to terms with the creature that he was and now as Sebastian stepped into what would become an arena…he wondered.

The girls had always screamed and fought against him when they met in the past, but perhaps that was his fault. Maybe if he approached more gently, in the way he'd heard Riley do, they might just listen to him.

His foot was accidentally set into a shallow puddle, the ensuing splash alerting both sister and father to his presence. The big daddy turned towards him, the glow in its ports orange as a low rumble of warning came falling out of its massive frame. The little sister let out a little gasp of surprise, hugging close to her guardian's leg while peering curiously at Sebastian.

Swallowing hard Sinclair tried to remember he'd be just fine so long as that light remained yellow and didn't burn red. Another cautious step forward, another growl from the protector and Sebastian stilled. Just as slowly, just as carefully he lowered to one knee, closer to the sister's height.

He tried to remember how it sounded, Billy's screech and Riley's low murmur. Sounds the sister would recognize – could he make them on command? He'd screamed like Billy had in the past but…never by his own volition and Sinclair did not think his vocal cords could produce the deep hum Riley's did. Unfortunately he'd not been built like either of his brothers. One a killer, the other a guardian and him…the slave.

Still the sister was watching him, not yet afraid but cautious. He had to at least try to do this without conflict. "Do you know me?" He asked gently. It sounded wrong, too human, not at all like what the little sister would find comforting. Frustrated Sinclair tried again. Straining his vocal cords, trying to remember how he'd done it before – when he spoke with the hypnotized daddy and…'made angels.'

This time the voice that came out was one that sent a small thrill rushing down his spine. " _Sister_?" It was not his voice; at least it was not his voice alone. That second echo, mixing with his own – the familiar trill of a sister's hum.

Feeling a chill in his blood, Sebastian had to remind himself that it was still his voice. He was a monster; a monster should not fear its own murmurings.

The little sister seemed to react quite different to Sinclair. Her glowing eyes widening and a happy smile breaking across her face. "Big brother!" She chimed, rushing out from behind her big daddy's protective stance to run right up to her superficial sibling.

Taken a little off guard, Sinclair rocked back on his heels as the sister came crashing into his arms. Her little hands grabbing fist fulls of his filthy hoodie, not at all bothered by the dried blood. "You were gone for so long!" The little blonde girl cried happily. "We missed you, brother." Still tensed in surprise, Sebastian took a moment to process her claims before a quiet contentment washed over him and he returned the young child's embrace tightly.

It almost broke his heart. Being held by the girl as she made claims of love and family. He should not have taken such comfort in it, he was not a creature made to process things like love and yet he found it in the other monsters Murkoff had produced. More so than he had any human. This girl, all the little sisters, all these monsters – they felt like home to him.

She wouldn't be a monster for long.

"I'm right here." He murmured, that distorted purr still strong in his words as slowly Sinclair rest his hand atop her head. Just able to feel the plasmid that Lisa had given him flaring to life beneath his fingers. "I'm here…and everything is going to be alright."

It was just as the light raced up his veins, fully intent on killing the ADAM-producing slug inside of the girl, that the big daddy finally took offense. She'd be a real child if Sinclair were left to do whatever he wanted – perhaps this was perceived as a threat to the big daddy.

The sound of the drill roaring into life was Sinclair's first warning and abruptly the plasmid cut off, replaced by a fist of lightening immediately blasted in the metal monster's direction. Under his other arm the sister screamed and Sinclair hastily pulled her up into his arms. Slinging the girl over his back as he'd seen big daddy's do in the past.

"Don't fight!" She shrieked, tugging on Sinclair's clothes urgently.

"Sorry." He managed to mutter back, already switching to another plasmid and retrieving his shotgun. "This one isn't your papa. This is a bad one." This explanation was a lie and the sister likely didn't believe it but she did quiet down when Sinclair added. "I'm going to protect you."

The roar of the pained creature turned to an enraged groan, shaking the lightening off seconds before rushing Sinclair. Were it not for something he'd originally thought impossible, it might very well have impaled him. The daddy _hesitated_.

Not because Sebastian unloaded four rounds into its body, but because it had seen the little sister clinging to Sebastian's back and for just a second hesitated. This gave him an opening and Sinclair used it to jam his hand between the daddy's protective cage, straight into one of its glowing red ports and blast a single shot of inferno into it.

Howling the daddy staggered back; smoke billowing out of what could be called its eye. Sebastian was reeling as well, the fact it hesitated on account of the sister's safety struck that familiar cord of compassion in him. These daddy's were family too he supposed, not all that different to Riley and infinitely more mournful.

They loved these girls. Truly they did, it was as close to love as Rapture had ever truly come. But they couldn't understand Sebastian only meant the best for them as well. He loved them too and so he couldn't leave them in this state.

There was no hatred in him as Sebastian advanced on the screaming creature, seeking out the broken port hole to once again shove his hand inside, wincing as the glass and flames raced up his arm, drawing blood. He pushed in deeper, ignoring the pain and let out a second blast of fire, scorching the creature's insides. It roared in agony, thrashing but unable to dislodge the smaller more agile monster from its body.

Hotter, had to be hotter. Sinclair focused, pushed himself, forced the plasmid to make the fire burn brighter. Before long there was flames bursting from every opening of the daddy's tank like body. It shuddered, the screaming ceased and finally its weight dropped to the ground with a heavy thud.

A moment of stillness, Sinclair stayed perched above the fallen daddy sucking in sharp breaths of air. Slowly he dragged his arm back out of the porthole. The glass breaking off and digging into his flesh, cracking along with the sound of skin being torn. It hurt horribly but Sinclair did little more than let out a hiss of pain through clenched teeth and force himself to keep pulling till his whole arm was once again free. Blood flowing free from the new injuries, but hardly the worst he'd sustained. Pretty good considering his opponent.

Then there was a soft sniffle. Turning his head slightly Sebastian could see the little sister crying into his hoodie. Guilt hit him first, concern second and with deliberate slowness Sinclair reached up to gently pull the girl back down onto the ground, setting her next to the fallen protector. He'd seen the girl's mourn for the daddies before and just as he always had, Sinclair allowed her time to grieve.

Her quiet cries were heart wrenching, that sickly guilt pooling in his gut unpleasantly. He tried to ignore that feeling by pulling shards of glass out of his forearm. The pain was sharp, focused him on something more physical for a few seconds. But inevitably the horrible feelings returned.

Then the rest of the world caught up with them, not allowing the child any more time to mourn. Sinclair only realised that Blaire's last order had reached its time limit when Martin's voice came back into clarity with a startling snap.

"You leave that sister alone, heathen!"

Father Martin's voice was tight and furious over the speakers and for a confusing moment Sinclair thought he was the one being addressed. Only to then feel his stomach drop out from under him seeing Blaire had come out from behind the vita-chamber.

Unconcerned by Martin's commands, Blaire strode over to Sinclair and the downed big daddy. He took one look at Sebastian, taking in his condition and was pleased by how little damage he'd sustained before peering at the still smoldering body the blonde was placed atop. Giving the metal corpse a little tap with his foot Blaire laughed. "Built these things to be nay indestructible." He mused with a vicious smile. "That's Murkoff quality for you, absolute shit. Not worth the scrap they're made of." Then Blaire's cold gaze settled on Sinclair again and the praise he gave felt slimy as it washed over him. "Not bad at all kid, thought for sure it'd do you in at least once."

When Blaire seemed to finally take notice of the sobbing girl, everything seemed to just fall away from Sebastian. The entire world just dropped out from under him as a cold dread settled in his stomach.

"That girl is a child of the family, not a toy for you to exploit and discard!" Martin was screaming over the speakers, giving voice to the overwhelming horror Sebastian felt.

"She ain't a damn child." Blaire replied with a roll of his eyes, an unimpressed growl behind the words. "Not anymore anyway, just a little ADAM factory."

Blaire took a single step forward and Sebastian snapped.

Joining the icy dread in the pit of his chest was a flash of near blinding fear as he felt his own fingers wind around Blaire's wrist, pulling him abruptly back from the girl. It was instinctual, almost hardwired into him the same was those three nasty little words were. It must have been a remnant of Riley's programing. A relic from the early days, when Trager was undecided on where each boy would end up. Surely it had to be that unholy force that drove him to actively act out against Blaire to protect the girl.

Both man and monster surprised by that motion, one responded with terror and the other in anger. "Would you kindly…" Blaire snarled, each venomous word coming out with a deliberate slowness. "…keep your fucking hands to yourself, freak?"

Abruptly Sinclair's hand fell, limp and useless at his side. In the same moment the words began to fall out, breathless and frantic. Begging without being commanded to do so.

"Please." He whispered desperately. Each word wretched and dripping with the promise of tears. "Blaire, _please_ …"

He was being sized up, stared at with a scrutiny Blaire hadn't looked upon him with in a long time. "You think you're in any position to ask for anything?" He asked coldly, stepping into Sinclair's space only to notice Sebastian's legs were still free to move, allowing the terrified boy to take a step back. "Don't move." He snapped before adding cruelly. "Would you kindly." And so Sinclair stilled, unable to escape as Blaire stepped close, fingers grasping his jaw with a bruising force.

"Well, freak? Go ahead, speak up." Blaire snarled, glaring down into the boy's frightened eyes.

Even though he knew it was a challenge, knew Blaire was daring him to step another toe out of line – Sebastian continued to speak. "Don't do this." He whispered, pleading with everything he had. His words, his voice, even his damn eyes must have screamed for mercy. "Not her…please, she's only a child. I…I can help her. Just let me help her."

He could see the sister just over Blaire's shoulder. Still huddled by her former daddy, tears streaking her dirty face as her glowing eyes stared wide in their direction. She didn't run because her brother had promised to look after her…but god he wished she had run.

"Now why would I do that?" Blaire mocked, voice still icy with barely contained anger. "Be a damn waste of ADAM that would. Are you forgetting one key fact here, boy? She isn't a child, it isn't even a _she_. It's just a thing." There was more to come no doubt. He'd go on to remind Sinclair he wasn't much better, not a real boy just a genetic freak of nature but the words never got the time to be spoken.

"She's family!" The words were out quicker than Sebastian could think to censor himself. He knew it was the wrong thing to say the moment he looked back at Blaire's cold eyes, seeing the dark shadow that had fallen over his face.

"Yeah." He muttered quietly. Quiet was worse. At least when Blaire was screaming Sebastian knew what came next. But when he was quiet….quiet meant the vita-chamber. It meant the return of a gun. It meant pain. "It would be family to you, wouldn't it, freak? All you little monster's banding together. A regular circus line up. But here's the thing kid, they ain't your family. The only family you have in this shithole is me. The only person you have is _me_."

This was quickly spiraling out of control. Another wrong step and not only would he be waking up in a vita-chamber but the girl would also be dead, the slug ripped out of her body without a shred of sympathy.

Desperation kicked in and it had Sebastian saying things he couldn't take back.

"I know!" He cried out, eyes shut tightly. "There's not a second that goes by that you don't remind me. I know what I am, I know you own me. Please, I _know_ …I-I just…please Blaire just this one thing. I don't care what you do with me afterwards; I won't try to escape anymore I…I 'll even listen to your orders without triggers. Just please…just let me have this one thing."

When no immediate pain or angry words came, Sebastian risked peeking one eye back open. Blaire was thinking.

This was like a sudden burst of optimism. Hope growing rapidly inside of Sinclair even when he should have known better than to risk horrible, crushing disappointment. But Blaire was _thinking_ , considering it.

Gradually the grip on Sinclair's jaw turned lax, Blaire's fingers not releasing him but no longer bruising up his skin. There was a shift in his face, rage turning thoughtful. "Now there's a pretty fantasy – you behaving."

Sebastian knew it was bait, knew Blaire was pushing to see how quickly he'd crumble for this. He obliged of course. "I will, I swear I will."

Rolling this thought around for a few seconds Blaire considered his options before finally a slow smile crawled across his face. It was the sort of grin that left Sebastian feeling cold but in that moment it provided hope. Maybe…maybe it would be alright. Even as he willingly parted with the last shred of freewill he had, Sebastian couldn't feel remorse, so long as that sister was safe.

"Alright, kid." Blaire began, tone far too pleased with himself. "You want to sell yourself for the little monster? Fine with me. I practically have all the ADAM in Rapture at my finger tips – what do I need the brat for?"

It occurred to Sebastian he may have been played by Blaire with that comment. He did have all the ADAM…and yet…yes. He'd definitely been played. But the relief rushing through his veins was so overpowering that Sebastian couldn't find it within himself to care.

Blaire released with him a careless shrug. "Go on then. Do whatever it is you always do." There was a disinterest to his words, but Blaire kept an eye on Sebastian as he stumbled back over to the sister. A stupid smile of relief plastered all over his face.

Still shaken the sister looked up at Sebastian for clarity and managed to smile a little bit in response to his expression. "Are the bad men gone, big brother?" She asked curiously and Sebastian cringed.

"Unfortunately..." The thought never finished and instead Sebastian shook his head and managed another weak smile. "I'm going to keep you safe, just like I promised. Take a deep breath and close your eyes, okay?" The sister obeyed, looking excited to see what her brother had to give her. She'd never understand how great this gift was, at least not until she was older.

Gingerly Sebastian placed his hand atop her head, the light flooding back through his veins before that same light blasted out around them, the girl's eyes lighting up along with his hand. Then as it all stilled once again, a little girl with bright blue eyes blinked up at him – totally normal eyes…for a totally normal girl. Confusion came first just as it always did but then a beaming smile and a small jump of excitement.

"Thank you so much, brother!" The girl hummed in a human's voice and Sebastian was surprised he was still brother with the slug destroyed. But the small flood of warmth he felt was by no means a bad response. Going so far as to give her a tight hug, Sebastian carefully lifted her back into his arms and carried her dutifully over to the little sister vent nearby.

"Right back to Mrs Park, okay? You know the way?" He asked her gently and the little girl nodded.

"The other girls know the way, so I do too!"

That made sense; they always had been able to communicate on a whole different level to normal humans. Nodding with a relieved sigh Sebastian helped her up into the vent. He felt a small pang of envy as she made her way to what would be freedom and a safe place to rest. Envy, but no spite. "Be safe." He urged, knowing he was fretting where he should have trusted the girl to know her way. "No stopping for anything, no daddies or-"

"Big brother." The little girl murmured comfortingly. "I'll be okay. I promise. We always keep our promises, don't we?"

Yes…he supposed they did.

With one last little smile Sebastian saw the girl off, waiting until he couldn't even hear her moving down the vent anymore before slumping against the wall. Exhausted by the whole endeavor.

He was not given the leniency of even a short rest.

"Sinclair." His master called, tone deceptively casual. Had he not known better he might have been fooled into thinking this was just a usual call. But no, there was something cruel under that façade of normalcy.

Tensing slightly Sebastian reluctantly looked back over to Blaire who was indeed leering at him with a smirk. "Come here, would you?" He requested brightly.

No kindly.

Sebastian flinched at the lack of that one little word that would have made the action involuntary. Ah, that's right, he promised to obey without it and they did keep their promises didn't they?

Forcing himself away from the wall Sebastian guardedly walked back over to Blaire. The man waited, perhaps the most patient he'd ever been and only because he clearly enjoyed the timid way the one that ought to have been afraid of nothing approached him. The smoking body of the big daddy by Blaire's feet was testament to Sebastian's brutality – and yet he coward at the call of his owner.

As he came to stand in front of Blaire, he kept his head angled down, nervously peeking up at the satisfaction on the older man's face. He flinched sharply when Blaire's fingers slid up past his cheek, running across where the bruises of his earlier grasp would soon be blooming. This time the touch was gentle, but all Sebastian could wonder was how long it would stay that way.

"I've been very generous haven't I?" Blaire asked cheerfully.

Sebastian didn't know if it was safe to answer. He sure as hell knew that if he answered honestly it would be the wrong thing to say. Apparently he took too long to figure out if this was a time to stay silent or one where Blaire demanded a reply because the man's fingers turned just a little harsh against his cheek. "I believe we had a deal, Sinclair." He snarled in warning. "And I asked you a question."

"Y-Yes…" The lie got out but it was shaky and unconvincing even to his own ears.

This hardly mattered. It wasn't the truth Blaire was after – just submission.

The fingers once again turned gentle, angling the blonde's head up so Blaire could get a proper look at him. Searching for fear and finding it in abundance. "That's right. I have been exceedingly generous with you Sinclair." He repeated in that same mockingly pleasant tone. "I expect you to be just as thankful for my charity."

"I am…" This was the right thing to say judging by Blaire pleased grin.

"That's what I like to hear." His quiet laughter was just as cruel as the rest of him and Sebastian shivered a little in response to the sound. Expecting what came next to hurt purely from what he knew of that laugh. "Now…it's only right you pay me back for my kindness. Isn't it?" For a moment Sebastian did not understand, Blaire was more than happy to clarify. "On your knees, Sebastian."

There was no hesitation, the ground leapt up to meet with his knees as Sinclair simply dropped.

It wasn't until the bruising force of his knees meeting with the cold ground had already sent spikes of pain out through his legs that he truly processed the meaning behind the order.

Staring up at him with what must have just been the blatant expression of horror. Blaire certainly thought it was amusing because he laughed again, reaching out to tangle his fingers in Sinclair's hair roughly.

"Getting it are we?" He mocked, twisting a stand of blood knotted hair sharply.

There's no need, Sebastian wants to say. Wants to ask why Blaire felt the need to push him into the dirt visually when all the power was already in his hands. But he knows better than to speak right now least he run the risk of turning Blaire's humorous mood into a punishing one.

So instead of speaking he merely tips his head forward the small distance Blaire's hands allow and remain perfectly silent. Doing his damndest to be good.

This becomes more difficult as a familiar shame flushes hot in his face, knowing perfectly well that they're hardly alone in Rapture. Splicers were one thing but surely that mad priest was able to see at least parts of Rapture.

Nervous his eyes flick upwards, just for a moment as though fully expecting to find a security camera glaring back at him. But there was nothing, just the decaying ceiling overhead, a spider splicer's claw marks scattered across it. "Eyes on me, kid." Blaire's voice broke in sharply, dragging Sebastian's gaze back to him. "You just keep your attention on me, understand?"

There's a wordless murmur of understanding and Blaire is satisfied with that, fingers still tight in his hair.

"You're going to prove to me just how well you can behave, Sinclair." His voice stayed gentle, almost friendly right up until he twisted his hand, grabbing a fist of blonde hair. He pulled and Sebastian went with little more than a cry of pain. "And of course if you _can't,_ all this? All this generosity I'm giving you? It ends and I use those three little words to make you pull apart that family of yours piece by piece. We'll consider it your legacy."

Part of Sebastian wanted to believe that was a lie as a flash of fear rushed down his spine. But then he thought of the vita-chamber and the gun. He didn't doubt Blaire would make good on any threat he made. "You don't need to tell me that." Sebastian muttered back. "I'm going to be good."

The fingers in his hair softened as did Blaire's eyes, the smirk remaining. "That's right." He agreed quietly, pleased with the compliance and Sebastian was not ready for the once harsh grip in his hair to become gentle. Running through his hair where previously he'd grabbed and yanked. Shuddering against even the smallest display of tenderness, Sebastian leant into Blaire's hand. Chasing after that shred of affection. Wholly unaware he was even doing it.

All the while Jeremy was smirking, perfectly aware of how desperate Sinclair was for just a bit of love. "I believe ya, kid."


	9. Remaking Memories Part1

AU Prompt: Second Chances

...

...

Jeremy had been here before.

So many times. The dark room, the towering shelves, polished floor and icy walls. Tight, sterile, so devoid of light that the rest of the world beyond its walls might as well have become a fantasy to those inside. And there he sat, waiting for the moment the bug would twitch again, would make the mistake of squirming while still ensnared.

He was angry.

Hot and sharp rushing through his mind, setting every nerve alight under his skin. Blaire was angry, but under the anger there was excitement. Giddy, unchecked, positively mirthful as he looked down onto Waylon Park's prone form sprawled out before him.

"Someone's been telling stories outside of class."

There's a sharp gasp of shock and then hands are upon the man.

"On the floor! Now! Hands where I can see them!"

The echo of Park hitting the ground bounced off the walls before giving way to the man's terrified gasps for air. His eyes were wildly as they looked between the devil by his side and the muscle standing between him and escape.

Vague insults, a charade of civility and a shattered computer at Park's feet. Blaire standing over him smiling coldly with a finger against his temple.

"Stupid, Mr. Park." Came the singsong words. "More than stupid, in fact….that was crazy."

Jeremy remembered this.

He'd already done this. Nothing could be changed if he willed now and so he watched as the words were said again.

"I'm afraid that we're going to have you commited." He hadn't been when the said those words. There was scarcely enough room left between his vicious glee and satisfaction for even the anger he'd felt towards their little whistleblower. There had been no fear.

But there was fear now as the words continued smoothly.

"Mr. Park, will you willingly submit to forced confinement? Did you hear that, agent?" He turns just like he had back then, faces the mountain of flesh between Park and freedom.

Waits for the mocking answer to be given, sees the man just beyond the first guard's shoulder shift as the guilt begins to tear away at him from inside. He'll pay for all his wrongdoings in time, he'll pay for it in flesh and blood – and that hand he currently uses to fist at his shirt as the shame becomes overwhelming will be taken as penance.

At his feet Park produces something like a whimper, pulls the leg that will one day be made of wood rather than bone closer to his chest as he stares at the suited devil that holds his life in its hands. Stares as it toys with that life for the few moments he has left.

Jeremy remembers what comes next.

"Great." And now the joy sounds genuine, the cruelty becoming less concealed as the smirk on his fast twists up horribly at the corners. "Oh, and... Did I just hear Mr. Waylon Park volunteer for the Morphogenic Engine program?"

He had not.

At the time Walyon had not said a word.

"That was brave, indeed, Waylon." He would be brave. He would have no choice but to be brave in the end. "The Murkoff Corporation and the onward march of science both appreciate your bravery and sacrifice."

Blaire's hardly even listening to his own lies as he glances back towards the security that had been brought with him in order to see that this little transition went smoothly. They'd not batted an eye when he'd directed them to linger back, waiting to trap their little bug in. Giving Blaire ample time to torment him before the end. He believed he'd earned that time for having put up with Park for as long as he had.

In time he'd have earned a different kind of reward for tolerating Waylon. One that had him doing the knot of a tie fifteen times and a cup of tar black coffee he didn't care for set in front of him. Things Blaire had no desire for.

But one day…

"Maybe you could administer Mr. Park here a light anesthetic?" It's cruel that he directs the question over the shoulder of the first man.

The first strike is delivered without a conscience, Blaire is unsatisfied. "Mr. Sinclair. If you would care to assist?"

The fist that comes crashing down onto the face of a friend will one day be taken from the man and Blaire knows that he'll feel the loss of it forever. But perhaps he will one day think it appropriate that the hand used to bruise his friend while the man looked up at him with pleas behind his tears, was torn from its socket. Rendered unable to ever harm an innocent again.

However it will also never be able to wind around the neck of the devil that watches with a smile as Park's consciousness it torn from him.

This has already been done. It had already happened.

 _It is not happening now._

There's a gap. A pause where the memory should continue. Where the nightmare ought to progress but instead remains stationary. Blaire's satisfied smile drops with every passing second, the light behind his stare fizzling out for every moment that scene does not go on.

Because he remembers how it is supposed to go. He remembers perfectly having turned to the black haired guard at his shoes, remembers taking in his horrified stare as he looked onto his own two hands – baring a splash of red from where Park had bleed. Blaire knows what he said then, can perfectly recall the heaving of the man's shoulders as he fought down some nearly uncontrollable emotion. If he had to push down the urge to sob or attack Blaire was anyone's guess.

But the words that would pull that violent tremble from his broad shoulders were never spoken and the scene remained stoic.

Until it was changed.

"Sir?"

Blaire jolts, his entire body snapping upright as a bolt of something indescribable rushes through his body.

It's clarity. Sharp, unforgiving, overpowering - _clarity_.

Because the nightmares spawned from a responsibility of a memory he couldn't shake are not nightmares at all. He is not remembering, he is living. Not observing but acting.

He takes a step back. That small physical motion breaks his muscles from their autopilot and it feels as though he's remerged from being encased in ice. The guard that is not a man destined to lose limb looks at him. Something that cannot be called concern twisting on his face as he is puzzled by the sudden fracture in the devil's façade. "Sir." He repeats again, slower, afraid of what he does not understand. "Are you alright?"

Waylon's body is limp as they haul it up and Jeremy sees Riley staying there on his knees, allowing the unconscious man to slip away from him even though it must kill a part of him to do so.

Park and Sinclair. Waylon and Riley.

Now and then. Then and _now_.

"Stop." The word is wrong. Not what he'd said at the time but Jeremy's tongue obeys him now and he uses it to break from the script. "Not down to the engine." He receives strange looks, there's some kind of unease building among the group. Confusion breeding uncertainty. This was not how things usually went.

On his knees Riley stirs. Risks a glance back at the devil holding his leash. There's a dead look in those eyes that Jeremy wishes he could say he'd forgotten. It's the stare of a man waiting to see what new hell their abuser has come up with and accepting it before it has even been given.

He looks at the other men, similar stares. Similar levels of fear among them – the devil gives no breaks and so he must also be relentless.

Or that uncertainty will steal the control from his hands.

They think Murkoff the owners of hell and Blaire their devil, but he knows better. Hell is what this place will become. Murkoff cannot contain it anymore than Blaire can claim to be its keeper.

But they'll believe him the demon as he says the words he'll use to twist them. "I'm sorry, did I stutter?" Jeremy barks and they all retreat from Blaire's voice. "Take Park to my office." There's a pause, and for it takes a second for his voice to fall into a nearly forgotten sneer. "Mr. Sinclair." Rusty as he might be, the man still tenses at his name. "You remember the way there, surely."

Let him think it another punishment. The others exchange knowing glances. Some have enough humanity in them to look sorry for the poor bastard among them that Blaire singles out to torture. The rest take joy in knowing it is not them. The uncertainty vanishes and is replaced by understanding.

They think this another mockery. Another way to hurt a toy.

Riley follows his orders. The chains around his throat too tight for him to disobey and begins to gather Waylon up. Taking him from the two guards that had hoisted him up by his shoulders. Jeremy cannot see his face, but he knows the man has snarled at those two guards in the way their faces turn pale and Waylon is jerked from their grasp.

Seeming to think better of it Riley stops holding Waylon so close, so protective. Instead adopts a clinically cold approach but he cannot bring himself to throw Waylon over his shoulder in what would have been a perfect display of disinterest. Instead he cradles the man was keeps his eyes fixed right ahead of him.

And he does his job. Just as he always had.

Jeremy watches as Riley takes Waylon away and then turns his attention to Sullivan and the remaining men. "Now that our little tattle-tail problem has been dealt with… bring me the reports from the Engine. All of them." Again that surprise, but no uncertainty this time. Good. "I want two of you to go and collect Steven for me. Park is from his division, if there is a problem with any of the others I want it dealt with today. Pull the plug on whatever test they're running, drag whichever patient they have in the machine out and lock it all down until further notice."

They're scrambling. Not physically, not yet. But in their eyes Jeremy can see the men trying to figure out the fastest way to get him the results he wants. The best way to go about looking out for their own skin.

"Oh." He pauses before looking back at Sullivan. "And get me Wernicke on the phone."

"Sir? I…why…?" It takes little more than a cold stare to silence and questions he might have and change his tone. "Understood, Mr. Blaire, right away."

Given their jobs the worker bees disperse, Quickly, frantically, whispering among themselves as they leave their master to the dark.

As the door clicks shut behind the last of them, Jeremy's gaze momentarily drops to the shattered computer. The email he'd once thought had failed to send already long gone and out of his hands. Miles would—

 _Miles_.

It's like a horrible chain reaction. With each name that passes his mind another comes flying right in after it, unearthed by the connections his brain rapidly makes. Piecing together the nightmare he'd already seen.

Waylon - the email.

The email - Miles.

Miles - the fall of Murkoff.

The fall of Murkoff – the end.

Just like that it all suddenly becomes so real. Jeremy's legs go weak and he nearly drops down to the floor by the broken screen. Instead he slumps against the wall, unable to hold himself upright any longer. One hand pressed desperately over his face even as he stares wide eyed at his other hand through the gaps in his fingers.

He'd just spoken. Acted on instinct once he realised he could act at all. He'd sent Riley away with Waylon to some place safe for a few minutes.

Now he realizes what he's done. Waylon will never enter the engine program. He will never been plugged into the machine that nearly rips his sanity from him.

The engine….everything else.

 _Everyone else._

A second jolt flies down Jeremy's spine, his hand wrenching away from his face as he's shocked back into the present. No more time left to wonder and he's moving again. Quickly, with purpose as his mind rushes to make all the connections, to remember all the details he'd once tried to force from his mind.

And he's talking. Muttering under his breath as he stalks down the halls, ignoring the few scared workers he passes. In his memory he'd stopped to enjoy their nervousness, still drunk on the adrenaline rush tormenting Park had left him with. Now he has no time for them, has too many things that need his attention immediately.

He's running out of time.

"Mr. Blaire!" It's Steven rushing up to him, looking frazzled as he looks between Blaire and the hand he has outstretched back in the direction of the engine. The two jar heads that had been sent to escort him lingering a few steps behind, always watching. "What is the meaning of this?" He demands frantically. "We just placed Gluskin into-"

Gluskin – Waylon's lost leg.

"There's been a serious breech of security." He breaks in sharply. Voice cold enough it could have very well been the same ice Blaire spoke with. "If anything comes of it, you'll be held accountable. As for Gluskin…"

Kill him. Erase the possibility he could cause Waylon to fall and injure his leg.

 _He's just a person too._

"As for Gluskin, he's not a viable subject for project Walrider. Remove him from it this instant. We'll deal with that cluster fuck later. For now focus on not getting fired."

"But…but y-you can't just…!" He sputters, nervous but indignant enough to almost argue. He catches himself at the last moment. "Hope is the only other subject that has the slightest chance of successfully completing the project, is it really wise to bank everything on him?"

Billy – the Walrider.

"No more tests until I can be sure your team isn't going to put a massive hole into the plan. Murkoff will abide by slight delays, they will not abide by security infractions. Now you put Gluskin back into his hole and close down the engine for the day while I sort your mess out or you'll be on the receiving end of Murkoff's frustrations."

The threat is real and Steven is afraid. Jeremy almost pities him, but he supposes that this might be better than the slaughter he might be a part of. Deserving or not.

He leaves Steven slack jawed and at a loss for how to proceed behind him. The second person to come to Blaire is one of his security, sent by Sullivan in a hurry it would seem. "S-Sir," He gasps for air, Blaire waits for him to get the words out even as his patience wears thin. He has no time. "It's the Warden sir, they're coming back around and-"

A dart he'd fired – the Warden.

The Warden – the patients _all of them._

He needs moretime _._

"If they need to be sedated do it." He snaps. "I don't want them to be able to so much as lift a finger without my say so." There's only so many different loose ends he can balance at once and Jeremy's mind is already trying to account for them all.

Riley and Waylon in his office. Gluskin and the Warden in their cages. Miles and the Walrider well on their way to arriving. Murkoff and Wernicke too close to setting the slaughter into motion. Rick and Sebastian…

Rick and Seb _– screaming their lungs out._

"What about the rest of them?" Blaire asks, catching the guard by surprise. His impatience slips into the irritated snarl of his voice. "The patients. What about the rest of them? Tell me who is scheduled for today."

"Oh. Um." He pauses, collects the names in his head and the first words out of the young guard's mouth trouble Blaire. "Andrew is doing the rounds today." He explains with a helpless kind of shrug. "Setting up the projectors."

He's stranded.

Standing there with so many branching paths laid out in front of him and no idea where to begin.

Should he take the one that will lead him to Park and Riley who no doubt believe he'll come to them as a jailor. Perhaps he ought to follow the path that takes him down, to be faced with the results of all his cruelties on the slim hope that maybe the damage can be undone. Or does he swallow all of he desires and go for what seems most logical, make that call to Wernicke and stall what experiments he can.

It feels as though if he sets down one the others will inevitably becomes blocked to him. What had once been a horrible memory set in stone is now fluid, changeable and infinitely more terrifying. There's room for so much improvement but there's also room for unspeakable loss.

Those few goods things he'd collected in a future that might not even exist anymore could be stolen away from him should these new paths lead to dead ends he couldn't begin to imagine.

Stupid little things that had seemed so trivial now made precious with the thought that they may never come to fruition.

A cup of shitty coffee, a smile only he sees, birthdays for boys that he now knows, the feeling of a place that is not only a house but a home.

The fear of losing them is nearly overpowering and it leaves Jeremy standing at the crossroads, too scared to step onto any given path. He can't go down them all.

There's not enough _time_.

But behind the fear of losing…there's a glimmer of something. He is not optimistic enough to call it hope; it is greed that's twisting inside of Jeremy now.

Greed has him looking down each pathway to see if he can find the right combination to get all he wants.

Once upon a time he'd done something similar, looking at the ladder to the position he held now. That ladder looks so flimsy and rickety to him now that even with the considerable pay he would never again set foot on it.

Finally Jeremy takes a step. He can't say for sure which of the paths he's crossing first, all he knows is that it must be forward.

It's strange, he reflects as he marches quickly for his office with barely a glance at that confused guard, to not be afflicted by the many aches and pains he'd come to know. Glancing down Jeremy is honestly taken off guard by seeing how smooth his skin looks as it is now. Not a single scar against his flesh, not so much as a hint of the horrors he'd experienced.

Horrors that might not happen if he can find that miracle combination and he wonders if it'll be the same without them.

Jeremy retrieves his phone from the inside of his jacket pocket. He's almost surprised by how natural it feels after so long without having owned this particular phone. It takes a moment of fiddling as he walks but eventually he unearths the number he needs.

He's never called it before, having planned to go and see the woman in person once the deed was done. Another change to their original script.

When Lisa Park answers her phone she does so with the usual astuteness that Jeremy had come to expect of her. He almost smiles before catching himself in the act.

"Mrs. Park?" It's phrased like a question and Jeremy waits for the confirmation he does not need to hear. Her voice is unmistakable but until this day he shouldn't have heard it before. "Hello miss, it's…" He pauses, adjusts his tone. Too suspicious of the ears in the walls to be overly casual, at least not while out in the open.

Jeremy picks up the pace, making a beeline for his office. Truthfully he cannot say it's any safer, it's a façade of security but it's the best he has for the time being. "My name is Jeremy Blaire, I represent the Murkoff corporation—Yes, yes. This is about your husband."

He's cut off by the woman's angry voice cracking from the other side of the phone. This time he does smile. Can't help the slight upward twitch in his expression. Lisa sounds livid, already has some choice words for him.

"Yes. You're quite right." He agrees mildly to her furious accusations and the level tone surprises Lisa into a moment of silence. It's long enough for him to interject his own words. They're rather different from the ones he'd thought the first time around.

 _A two week contract, it wasn't that difficult a task was it?_

"It has been too long since you spoke to your husband."

 _It must be difficult for you. But try to be reasonable. You stupid fuck._

"It really has been. Mr Park…Waylon misses you dearly."

Now she is confused, not sure what to make of this unusual contact from the company that has kept her husband so firmly gagged. "What are you calling for?" Suspicion, well he cannot fault her for that. "Is…is Waylon okay?"

Jeremy doesn't tell her that he will be. Doesn't promise that he's going to save the poor bastard he had once damned. He cannot make a promise like that; there are still too many paths that he cannot see down.

So instead Jeremy simply replies. "I'm afraid not…but I believe he could be. However, for that I need something from _you_ Mrs. Park."

That's good he decides. Sounds just like something the devil would say. Manipulative, but not condemning. It left itself open to all kinds of interpretations and with Blaire's reputation it would inevitably be taken to be something immoral. That would buy a bit more time for them.

It's a relief when he finally enters his office, opening the door only to be a touch surprised when he finds Riley standing in his designated place.

Distantly he recalls Riley having always stood there when called into the devil's den. Hands ridged behind his back as he stands like a statue before the desk and there slumped in the chair at his side is Waylon. Still well and truly unconscious, the blood one his face as started to cake around his nose and mouth. It's disgusting but it's a shallow injury – not one he'll carry like the nightmares he could be inflicted with.

The moment of surprise passes and Jeremy relaxes, shutting and locking the door behind him. Riley takes this to be a threatening action and he sees the muscles under the man's flesh tightening. He'd almost forgotten how big Riley had been, how sturdy he was. Good, they may be in need of brute strength like his.

Now safely within his own domain Jeremy rounds the desk, sparing Park another quick glance. He notices a black eye forming but this too is mostly ignored, shrugged off as an injury he will heal from quickly. Not worth the time it would take to ice it. Not while they're on such a tight schedule.

As he drags out old files on the patients Jeremy is only half listening to Lisa's questions and all but completely ignoring Riley's following eyes. He is confused by this behaviour but not brave enough to speak out just yet. "Yes, yes. Mrs Park please…" He growls in frustration when Lisa keeps going, the familiar ring of her insults beginning to become a distraction from the present rather than a fond memory from the past.

"Lisa stop talking for a moment!" He snaps, it's unintentional but Jeremy is occupied by riffling through the files, looking for a specific set and the words just slip out. A habitual familiarity he'd not yet shaken. "For god's sake woman I am trying to tell you something important here. Stop barking at me!"

There's silence.

Blaire realizes a second later that it's not only Lisa's lack of retort that makes the air feels so heavy.

Glancing up he sees Riley's wide stare on him. Looking as though he's never laid eyes on him before.

Cursing under his breath Jeremy continues to go through the papers, setting one aside every now and then. If he barely has the time to stop and explain the situation to _himself_ then he sure as shit doesn't have time to slow down and explain what's happening to Riley.

"Look I know you're looking into a lawsuit against Murkoff – of course I know." He scoffs. "It's my job to know. No I'm not calling to threaten…oh for fuck's sake. _Lisa_!" Again a silence. More stunned then the last. More time for him to speak. "If you want to compile evidence against Murkoff I have a – and I believe this is the scientific term for it – a metric shit ton of dirt on them."

He hears Riley choking in front of him but doesn't so much as glance at him this time. Too absorbed in listening to Lisa's curiosity peaking as looking down at the few files he'd gathered. Jeremy thinks that's all of them, the patients he remembers to be the most…troubling during the slaughter. A few here he knows to hold some specific connections to other patients. The Warden in particular can be tricky but their connection to the patients might just tip the scales if they can only convince them not to shred every single one of them on sight.

It was like lining up pieces on a chessboard, being careful to make sure he didn't expose even a single pawn to the other side for risk it might unhinge the queen. Their particular queen was temperamental at best, and had a grudge deep enough that they might just turn on the king if handled poorly. Jeremy thought the answer to this problem to be one of their castles.

The Warden needs Walker. Gluskin – for as disgusting and wretched as he is to Blaire – is a requirement for one of their key players just as Jeremy assumes he might be himself for another. Riley and Waylon too are important, all of these sentimental attachments stringing them together…and he'd scoffed at the notion only months earlier.

"You said your name is Blaire?" Lisa's voice breaks through to him again. "You're an executive right? Why are you…?"

"To be perfectly honest with you – I'm likely insane." Jeremy admits readily with a shrug. "I've been through enough with Murkoff to believe that either I've gone off the deep end or what I think is happening right now is actually happening… either way I wouldn't be surprised. At the end of the day I don't think it really matters. Even if I am a certified nutjob – I know where Murkoff's path leads and I don't think you'd fancy letting your husband go down it."

Jeremy catches a soft groan of pain and recognizing it as Waylon's voice looks up at the man. He's barely conscious, shifting sluggishly in his seat. Good timing Park – might be the first time he ever had it.

"If it'll help you understand, I'll put your husband on the phone. To prove I'm not feeding you bullshit. But…I'm not sure how coherent he'll be. Took a bit of a beating earlier."

Lisa agrees so fast Jeremy barely gets to finish the offer before he's thrusting the phone towards Waylon.

The man flinches, stares at the thing being pushed into his face and then sluggishly turns his gaze up towards the man holding it.

When he sees its Blaire he nearly screams.

The sound gets caught in his throat and Waylon is choking. Jeremy does not have time for this. "Take the damn phone, Park. It's your wife." He hesitates just that bit too long and Jeremy's patience is finally gone.

Snatching Waylon's hand he forces the phone into his palm harshly, ignoring how Waylon cringes away from him and begins to look wildly around. When he sees Riley there's that flash of pain again, betrayal and Riley looks away from him but then Waylon is staring back down at the phone, confusing chasing away the fear.

"W-Wha…?" He begins and Jeremy's growl shuts him up a moment later.

"Park, put that phone to your fucking ear and talk to your wife." He hisses angrily. "Been two weeks, you must have something useful to say to her. Christ, tell her about Murkoff being a bunch of thunderfucks – I don't give a damn. Just _speak_."

He stumbles again, looking blearily between Blaire – who is behaving in a way he has simply never seen before – and the phone. Then slowly, as though he dares not believe, Waylon brings the phone to his ear and whispers Lisa's name.

The sob that escapes his throat upon hearing her cry his name back joyfully almost stops Blaire again. He casts a look over his shoulder at Waylon as the man breaks down; sobbing apologies he sure as hell doesn't need to be giving.

He's shaking, whimpering and falling apart – Jeremy smiles again and this time does not bother curbing the look.

One day Waylon might just thank him for this. If they made it out alive of course.

While Waylon openly weeps into the phone. So torn apart by confusion and relief he doesn't know how to function, Jeremy turns his attention back to the other paths he must walk to get what he wants. In his hands he holds the chosen patient files.

Flicking through them he notices a few things will need notes of his own. With so little time he begins to hastily scribble instructions and reminders onto the black backs of the papers. Those little lines of red become the representation of the strings binding them. They have to be careful to sever none of them or they'll begin to lose pieces to the other side's pawns.

It's while he's making a note about the little shit priest there's a quiet murmur from behind him. "What are you doing?" Riley's voice is so soft he nearly misses it and when Jeremy does look back at the man, he sees Riley is shaking.

"What are you _doing_?" He repeats, voice strained with some unexplainable emotion.

Perhaps Jeremy could have enjoyed that. Seeing how this sudden change in him had broken Riley's mind that little bit more. Left him at a loss for what to do and maybe it was his personal dislike for the man that drove him to answer with. "I lied to you, Riley."

He flinches upon hearing his first name. So rarely being addressed by it now days and almost never from Blaire. "I lied straight to your face and I laughed when your back was turned." Jeremy continued with a careless shrug. "I'm sure you're not all that surprised, it is what I do after all."

He understands quickly. "M-my brother…" The words become too painful for Riley to continue saying and after a moment of what must have been agony, the man changes his question. " _How long_?" He's smart enough not to ask why, to instead just ask for the extend of the damage.

There's a twist of something painful inside of Blaire's chest when he answers. "Too long." And holds out Sebastian's patient file to Riley. Weeks earlier it would have been an employee file.

He takes it with trembling fingers and nearly tears the paper in two until he sees the splash of red ink on the back in Jeremy's hasty writing. Then the anger drops away and all that remains is the confusion and the fear. "Do I want…? Of course I am willing to help him." He answers the written question, staring at Blaire like he'd gone mad.

Maybe he had. Wouldn't be too strange to think so. Fortunately he didn't care. Fractured as this reality might be, it was the only one he had and so there were no excuses for hesitating.

He did not hesitate.

"Good." Jeremy nods sharply and then hands over a few more papers to Riley. He pretends not to notice when Riley winces seeing Trager's picture among the papers. "We have an extraordinarily shitty window of opportunity to work in here. Going to be a miracle to make this work. But maybe… maybe if we do this right we might just be able to do just that. Now, I'm going to need you to become a bit of an actor for me. Shouldn't be too hard, just look as miserable and angry as you always do and it should fit."

"Why…?" Riley begins finally falling onto the question they didn't have time to address and Jeremy stops him before the interrogation can begin to really fly into motion.

"Don't ask questions Riley." Jeremy advised flatly. "The answers wouldn't make sense to you…and even if they did it wouldn't change a thing. This changes nothing."

Blaire was still the monster who stole away their lives. Still the devil that pulled them down into this hell. Nothing changed that. "Do as I say and hopefully we all walk away from this alive."

To Riley's credit he does stop speaking and instead reads the red ink that Jeremy had put down onto the paper for him. His expression becoming stormier with every second as he attempts to push aside the confusion and focus on this new job.

He'd always been able to do it before and Jeremy is confident he'll be successful again today.

Turning back towards Park Jeremy holds his hand out for the phone. Waylon curls a bit in the chair, holding it closer to his person. There's no time for his fear to get in the way. "Hand it over Park." He snarls. "I need your wife's brains for a second, stop sniveling." Then after a second passes without compliance Jeremy sighs and adds. "I'll give it back to you, I only need a word with Lisa."

Like Riley there's confusion but Waylon knows his position is bleak. Even if Blaire is playing some sick new joke there's no way out for him and so he hands over the phone. Jeremy is pleased although not at all surprised when Lisa is more composed than her husband.

"What do you want?" She starts sharply and then abruptly changes her question. "No. What do you _need_? You said you needed my help, so what do you need?"

Clever woman. Jeremy smirks as he begins to rattle of a few basic details. They'd need Lisa primed and ready to go at a moment's notice. Then while Lisa goes to retrieve a pen and slip of paper to note down what Jeremy is telling her, he glances back at Waylon.

"You still have Upshur's email?" He asks. The question gets a jump of fright from Waylon who again stares at him as though he had gone mad. "There's no chance in hell we can send him anything else from the asylum, I told you before Waylon – that was _stupid_. You stupid fucking—never mind. Your wife however can contact him safely, so we need the email. Do you have it?"

He does and Jeremy is satisfied. "Good. Tell it to Lisa. Upshur is the type to come in gun's blazing but if he wants real information he's going to need to do better than that. Fortunately Murkoff keeps a rather extensive record of all their sins. Film most of it themselves, so worst case scenario we give those to Upshur. But I want him on sight, god knows he'll put that camera of his to good use. Besides, we'll likely need the extra hands."

He has to stop when Lisa returns, quickly turning his attention back to the instructions he can give her. Jeremy knows that this is ludicrously dangerous. His phone is by no means secure; the company will be able to hear all of his transgressions if they care to take a look.

Jeremy prays they are not looking today. They only have a few hours as it is, he doesn't need that time made shorter by Murkoff catching onto them early.

Fortunately Murkoff trusts him as much as a company can trust the snake in their garden. He'd spent his entire life biting others for them, been the perfect, subordinate dog. Satisfied with his work, eager to do more. They wouldn't be the slightest bit suspicious of him and Jeremy planned to play on that for as much time as he could get out of it.

He's an executive sure, but he's just as expendable as Waylon. Just as expandable as Trager.

Trager…

"Park. Take this." He instructs, throwing the phone back to Waylon who damn near drops it. The clumsy bastard. "Give her everything you can, Riley you'll be in charge of minding Waylon and those papers. They'll be asking after him eventually, make something up. I'm sure you can think of some damning lies about whatever torture I'm putting Park through. Say whatever you like to buy for time."

"For the record…" Riley begins, pocketing the carefully folded files. "I don't trust you…and I think you're going to kill us. But…if my brother is already in that machine…then there's nothing left to lose on this."

Pessimism at its finest.

Jeremy smirks and shrugs. "Think of it like this. Even if I'm lying – we're all dead if Murkoff catches on."

Nodding solemnly Riley looks to Waylon and musters up the tiniest smile. He speaks like a dead man walking but there's some hope growing behind those previously dead eyes. "You think there's any chance this will work?" He asks uncertainly and Jeremy hesitates.

Because _no_ he's not and it must have been the first time Riley has ever experienced Blaire being truthful with him.

"No." He admits. "But I think it's the only chance we have."

Taking this in Riley nods with a small sigh. "Then we'll do it." There's a slight apology in his tone when he speaks to Waylon next. "You're not opposed to orange one suit pieces are you?"

And despite everything, Jeremy laughs when seeing Waylon go pale.

They were all going to fucking die down here.


	10. Outshock6

"I'll fucking _kill_ you!"

Ah, it seemed Riley had finally managed to corner Miles. Lisa had to hand it to the Irishman, he'd managed to hide for longer than she'd expected. Made all kinds of excuses to get away, they were currently swimming in supplied after Miles frankly ludicrous amount of 'scavenging' missions. Anything to not be in the safe house at the same time as Riley.

But a man could only escape judgment for so long and he just so happened to sleep here. Couldn't avoid the person you lived with forever. But to Mile's credit, he'd given it an honest to god shot.

"H-Hey, lets just calm down for a second there, lad." Mile's nervous laughter carried through to where Lisa was sitting at her desk, wishing dearly she could just block out the children's argument. Waylon was asleep, finally. He had been up most nights, stressing likely.

Their reactions to what had happened those few weeks earlier were…varied. For her part Lisa had set to trying to see if there was any way to replicate the chemical concoction that Trager had destroyed, and found herself meeting little success. Waylon had been distraught, although he never said a word about it. He's stopped eating as much as he should have and just wouldn't sleep. Most days he'd just drop somewhere, usually sitting with the girls in the middle of some game of make-believe. The children had gotten very good at handling Waylon's accidental naps. Miles had run off, burying himself in his own work so to speak. Gathering supplies, fixing and setting up old traps and defenses. Kept himself just as busy as Lisa had.

Then there was Riley. _Then there was Riley_ ….

Sighing Lisa set down her journal and scooted out of her seat as quietly as she could, unwilling to take away the few hours of sleep that Waylon managed to get. Although it was entirely possible that Miles and Riley's bickering would wake him up before long.

Stepping outside of her room she found exactly what she expected to find. Miles pressed up against a wall, barely able to stand on his tippy toes while Riley jammed his arm up under the man's throat with a snarl. What she had not accounted for was Riley's other arm. Where usually there was nothing more than a stump, today he had the drill attached. Most days he kept it off when in the safe house, figuring it was of no use around the place and would just unsettle his companions.

That and he honestly despised it. Said the thing reminded him of unpleasant things. Lisa understood that, thoughts of Trager's manic glee when implementing the drill coming to mind. Riley did not like to be anymore comparable to a big daddy than he already was.

Today it was locked in and by the look of it Riley was all of five seconds away from starting it up and putting it right through Mile's chest.

"Give me _one_ good reason not to just kill you right here." Riley growled, body trembling with the sheer force of his rage. It had been building for weeks after all. He always just missed finding Miles. Admittedly neither Lisa nor Waylon had been particularly helpful, directing Miles out whenever Riley was heading back. Even the girls had started moving the two around so they'd always just miss one another, seeing it as some kind of big game of hide and seek.

Met with that challenge Miles – the shrewd man – took one glance around the safe house and answered. "The children are watching."

Lisa watched in morbid fascination as every single muscle in Riley's body locked up. Going tight as he remembered that they were indeed not alone. Around Riley's feet the girls had been gathered, at first thinking they'd lost the game of hide-and-seek only to be scared by the sudden explosive violence their usually gentle giant displayed. He'd killed for them plenty in the past, but he'd always been fighting mad men and splicers – never raised a weapon to someone that was, at least to some extent, family.

Taking a look down at the girl's frightened expressions, Riley's expression twisted from one of rage to guilt. Immediately Miles was set down, the drill lowering in the same motion, although he still reserved a steely glare for the man that seemed to say 'don't move an inch'. Miles lifted his hands in surrender and stayed where he was put. Riley turned to the girl who still looked frightened and carefully took a knee in front of them. "I'm sorry." He murmured, offering his human hand out to them. "Everything alright, I'm here. Just…a little adult talk. It's all okay I promise."

There was hesitation in the girls but only for all of two seconds before they were hugging up to Riley again. He carefully wrapped them up in his arms again, still uttering quiet apologies until he was sure the girls were feeling secure once again.

Miles was safe so long as the little ones were around…which was precisely why Riley immediately suggested they go play in the other room with the rest of the children. Lisa very nearly laughed as Mile's relieved expression turned pale, knowing right away that Riley was sending off his only saving grace. He turned to Lisa for help but she'd never been one to dig the past revolutionary out of his self-made graves.

Hesitant to go the little one glanced at the remaining adults for confirmation. Lisa gave them a nod and Miles managed a slightly uneasy smile for them. With that they were bustling out of the room with talk of playing a new game. To Riley's credit he did not immediately go back to strangling Miles, having calmed enough while dealing with the girls. Now his anger was quieter but no less vicious.

"Any other reasons?" He asked in a cold hiss not yet turning to face Miles again as he stood back to his full height.

"Lad I…" Miles looked like he was swallowing the words, not sure what he could say that would save his own skin in that moment. After a beat of silence Miles actually reached out for Riley and uttered the only thing he could. "I'm sorry."

"You're _sorry_?"

Turning sharply, Riley grabbed Miles by the front of his shirt as the words tore out of him. "Is that all you can fucking say? That was _my_ _brother_ you sent out there. Even after I told you he couldn't go, even after you knew it wasn't safe! You sent him out there because that's what you've always done!"

"Riley, plea-"

"You just send men to their deaths and call it a fucking revolution. Men died for you and what the hell did you give them, huh? Nothing. You gave them less than nothing, you fucking handed them right over to Blaire and now you've gone and given him my bother as well. You self righteous, arrogant, selfish piece of-!"

There was a jarring thud as Miles fist came crashing down across Riley's jaw.

More stunned than anything Riley ended up on his backside, with his hand hovering over what would be an extraordinary bruise come tomorrow morning. It was hardly the worst Riley had ever taken, but clearly the shock of it coming from Miles had struck him harder than any big daddy.

Above him Miles had his hands still clenched into tight fists and even from this distance Lisa could clearly see he'd busted at least one knuckle on Riley's face. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen!" Miles shouted, voice replacing Riley's angry words. "I was doing what was right. Not all of us have the luxury of having a squeaky clean fucking conscience. Some of us had to make the hard choices; we couldn't all just walk through life with clean goddamn hands. I tried alright, I _tried_ to do something good and look where it got me. Nowhere, no bleeding where! I didn't ask for men to...to _die_ for me."

Words that were meant to be angry, loud and leaving no room for a moment of weakness. Except that's exactly what happened, Mile's words broke. The anger drained away, leaving only a grief stricken Miles standing in silence staring down at Riley who had not even tried to get back up. Instead he was just watching Mile's face, looking nearly as surprised as the Irishman felt.

"I…I _didn't_ …" Miles muttered staring at his own two hands. Littered with scars, the years of abuse evident in the callouses along his fingers.

But he had done just that, hadn't he?

Names and faces of people long gone came unbidden into his mind, dragged up from the darkest corners he'd managed to force them back into. Each one another death he'd never be clean of.

It had all been so different once. Back when he'd still spoken with Atlas's name to his person, inspired the same fire that burned away in his gut inside of others. As Atlas he'd rallied people, provided them with hope that things could change. That he would be the one to change them. Even as they lost people, as their friends died fighting for their cause – it hadn't done a damn thing to slow the movement. They just pressed on, never stopping to count how many had already fallen until they could look back and find hundreds of bodies left in their wake. Some theirs, others Murkoff's and too many bystanders.

But none of that mattered. They forced it not to matter and clung to hope. It was that blind devotion that had truly brought everything to a grinding halt.

He'd lined it all up perfectly for Blaire, provided him with people more than willing to die on the slim chance that others may live without Murkoff's shackles tying them down. Miles had handed them all right over to the slaughter.

Now he may very well have added Sebastian's name to the numerous others that rattled around his skull during the late night hours.

All the fight drained out of Miles. The shame he'd been working incredibly hard to avoid, hiding behind anger and work to keep it at bay, was now overpowering. Standing in silence he waited as Riley slowly eased back to his feet, waited for the moment his earlier display of violence would land him his own black eye.

There was something unnatural in the way Riley so casually reached for him. Miles tensed, prepared for the first strike but expecting it to hurt like a bitch straight outta hell all the same. But as the seconds trickled by and no immediate harm came to him, Miles gradually opened his eyes again. Finding Riley staring at him, hand still lifted. The motion caught between grabbing the Irishman and something else that kept his fingers splayed out and lax. That same quiet disconnect shinning through in Riley's expression, blank save for the pinch of his eyebrows. Uncertainty if Miles were forced to name it.

Riley didn't know what to do.

"If ya want to beat the shit outta me…" Miles began dryly. "Might as well get to it lad."

With no words rushing to his defense, Miles had little choice but to accept whatever punishment Riley dished out. _Hit me_. Miles thought viciously, frustrated the longer Riley's arm remained up and without a punishing blow behind it. _Why would he bleeding hit me? Do it already, hit me, just fucking_ —"Hit me!" The words tore straight out of Miles and before he could think better of it he'd reached out to snare the stronger man's wrist, as though he might somehow be able to prompt Riley out of his inaction.

Startled the young man had little choice but to stumble forward when he was grabbed. There were no illusions as to who was physically superior between them, but Riley was still outmatched by Miles's sheer fierceness. Always that little bit taken aback by him. "What are you waiting for?" The angry man barked. "After all that strong shit you were spouting earlier – why in bleeding hell won't you hit me now, huh? Gone soft behind the ears have you?"

Still Riley did not move. Still his hand didn't so much as twitch. Instead he was just staring at Miles. This was unacceptable.

"All those people that died, yeah I killed 'em. Walked them right into their graves – so hurt me if it'll make you feel better, boyo."

Finally action, only not the one Miles wanted. In one quick motion Riley snapped his wrist right out of Upshur's grasp. The scowl twisting on his face was not one that promised an immediate beating and instead Riley's hand fell limp back at his side. The drill at his other remaining blessedly silent.

Then suddenly Riley's eyes were on him again, sharp and unforgiving. "I am not your weapon." The words were just as cold and bitter as his stare. "Do not try to use me to make yourself feel better."

 _Oh my._ Lisa thought wryly with a quiet sigh, leaning back against the doorframe as she watched the pair engage in a glaring match. _Looks like they're at a stalemate._

Over her shoulder Lisa could hear Waylon stirring. She couldn't say for sure if it was all the bickering that had dragged him away from his much needed sleep or if his body had simply had its fill – either way she felt a small pang of frustration towards both of the men in front of her. As he emerged from the bedroom, rubbing his face clumsily, Waylon took notice of the tense atmosphere quickly.

Straightening back up he looked to Lisa for answers. His wife giving little more than a helpless shrug. She'd let Waylon mother them, her duties only extended as far as the girls and occasionally tinkering with Riley's screws to set her wrongs right where she could.

"Hey." Waylon smiled uneasily as he approached the two. "Are we all okay?"

"Just peachy." Miles ground out through clenched teeth; eyes not shifting from Riley's face at the lie came out. A few more seconds trickled on by before Miles was willing to turn his back to Riley with a low snarl of frustration. "Need a damn drink." He muttered under his breath before heading for the door. Nearly made it out too before a little sister came rushing on in.

In her haste the young girl nearly hurtled straight into Mile's legs. "Easy there!" It was as though she was deaf to the words, alarm written across her face clear as day. The adults took notice quick enough and it was Waylon that moved fastest. Hurrying over to Miles and the child, dropping down to a knee before the girl with what must have been the most well practiced expression of concern and comfort.

He uttered quiet assurances, questions littered in between the soft reassurances – trying to pinpoint to source of her distress. The words were blurted out after a few minutes of the girl struggling to just catch her breath. "Come quickly!" She urged, grabbing hold of Waylon's hand to try and pull. "Mary just came home!"

The name meant nothing to most of those present, all except Lisa and Riley who startled when hearing it. "Mary?" The previously silent protector repeated, too shocked at hearing it again after so long to truly process what was being said. "But we haven't…she's been trapped in Persephone since…"

Realisation swept between Lisa and Riley in the same second and both were quick to join Waylon with the girl. "Where?" Lisa asked quickly and with a relieved smile the little sister lead them back into the main room – where the other children had gathered around the vent Mary had only minutes earlier crawled out of.

Riley's breath caught seeing her again, eyes no longer a unnatural yellow glow. Instead a pair of bright, human, blue eyes turned to look at them and Mary smiled from ear to ear. "Big brother!" The other girl's parted, allowing Mary to rush over to Riley, throwing herself into his one armed embrace. Immediately he took her up into a tight hug, almost desperate in how close he held her to his person.

She was alive. Not only alive, but safe and cured. Something Riley had very nearly given up on after so long. She'd grown so much since he last saw her, the four years they'd been separated having changed her in a few ways. None of which were enough to stop him from recognizing her the moment he saw her.

"Thought you were gone…"

Lisa allowed the two all the room she could manage. It would be rude to steal away their reunion but there was only so much patience she could muster and finally Lisa stepped forward to speak. "Little one. How did you find your way back to us?"

When questioned Mary glanced up at Lisa, if she recognized the woman responsible for implanting the slug in her stomach all those years ago she didn't show it. "Big brother saved me." She explained as though it were the most obvious thing in the world and while she showed no recognition for Lisa, she certainly remembered her 'brothers'. "Sent me back, said I would be safe."

Looking over at Riley who had turned deathly silent and still Lisa didn't dare imagine what he was thinking. Instead she focused on the young one in front of them. "How many other little ones are there in Persephone?"

Thinking about this for a moment, Mary eventually offered up an uncertain answer. "Two…I think." That was good enough for now. It meant there was at the bare minimum one more child out there that needed help.

This changed things, they would need to move quickly. If the path to Persephone had been opened up they would be able to reach the other girls. Martin would be an obstacle surely but at least they would have access to the previously barred off section of Rapture. All too quickly Lisa's focus had narrowed to a tunnel vision. They had to work to do if they hoped to see the surface. But Riley was still stuck on the first thing that Mary had said.

Waylon's attention moved from Lisa to Mary and he had to ask permission from the stonily silent guardian to relinquish her from the hug so he could make sure she didn't have any outstanding injuries. Just as the little sisters trusted Waylon, Riley obediently released Mary to allow Waylon to see her. Miles never bothered to ask why it was Waylon was able to get through to the ADAM based creatures regardless of their mental state. But if he were to make a grim guess he'd assume it was programed into them by Lisa, some long standing form of hardwired affection for her husband being built into all her creations. It certainly had saved his life in the past, but likely Riley wouldn't appreciate it if this were to be the case.

With Waylon distracted by Mary – whom seemed more excited than anything else – and Lisa gone to find where they'd stashed the old vent system plans, that just left Riley and Miles among the eagerly whispering children.

Riley hadn't gotten up, sitting on the ground as his silence stretched on longer and longer with every second. The girls steered clear of him, out of respect rather than fear. Each and every girl knew instinctually as a little sister he'd never harm them and once saved they trusted him just as much. But they also knew when to give their protector space.

Miles was bound by no such courtesy.

So as he came to stand directly besides Riley, lighting up a cigarette, Miles spoke to him where a kindlier man would have remained silent. "Brother, huh?" He mused aloud, able to feel Riley actually flinch by his leg they were so close. "Now I wonder who that could be."

"If you think this means I forgive you…"

"I ain't asking for your forgiveness kid." Not deserving of it, not wanting it, not asking for it. Miles took a long drag of the cigarette, a relieved shuddering running through his body as he got the nicotine back in his system. It felt as though he hadn't paused for a smoke since the kid went missing back in Olympus Heights. "What I am asking…" He continued slowly, able to practically feel Riley's doubt just rolling off of him. "…is that you don't bite me head off when I come with ya to get him."

At this rather casual comment Riley's entire body became animated. Head whipping up, carrying most of his body along with it as he stared at Miles. The sight got a small huff of amusement out of the Irishman. "You…" Riley paused, swallowing heavily. "You're coming with me?"

"Ya wound me, lad. Making it sound like I'd leave you twisting in the wind. 'Course I'm coming along."

The light of the cigarette would eventually draw Lisa back. She liked a good smoke of her own – but not in the kid's play rooms. She'd catch wind of his little rebellion before long and Miles intended to be long gone by then, out there making for Persephone. Able to still feel Riley's surprised stare, Miles tossed the younger man a smirk. "Not too keen on adding your kid brother's name to my conscience, boyo. Only one solution then ain't there? Go drag his hide out of there me self."

It was always quite the sight, seeing the way Riley's head worked in contrast to his heart. The boy was built to take a battering, and to give out double that. But there was nothing protecting that soft heart of his, there was certainly nothing in place to help him hide every honest emotion that passed through his person. Miles had gotten comfortable watching them play out through Riley's expressive face. In that moment he watched an onslaught of something painful passing over the kid's face. Too happy to not hurt at least a bit.

Smiling faintly Miles took another drag of his cigarette, pretending not to be wholly aware of how Riley's emotions played out. There was no harm in giving a man a sense of privacy in his own thoughts. But Miles could hear them loud and clear.

"I'm still angry." Riley eventually huffed and Miles bit down a smirk because – no he ain't.

Instead of pointing out how ludicrously obvious a lie those words were, Miles instead took a step forward, placing himself in front of Riley to offer the kid a hand up. "Sure thing, Riles. But pissed as you might be – we should make tracks, don't you agree?" After a moment of speculation and regarding Miles's hand as though it might just be a snake, Riley finally relented and reached up to lock hands with the old freedom fighter.

With a grin Miles hauled the kid back onto his own two feet. He weighed a ton with that blasted drill attached, so really the movement was all for show, Riley picking himself up more than Miles actually pulled. But that was just the purpose of the exercise – a point of faith.

"Might not be me weapon, boyo. But you'll mind my back out there won't ya?" There was no doubt in the question, hardly even needed asking. But Miles said it all the same if only to see the slight smile that fought its way onto Riley's face. He tried for annoyed but it fell flat and they both knew the expression hadn't been convincing. So finally Riley gave a small nod, hand still joined with Miles even now he was back on his own two feet.

Finally Riley relented and uttered a firm. "Always."

Satisfied with this Miles tapped a knuckle back against Riley's chest, right above where his heart beat firmly in his chest. "Then we're good to get going. Let the brainiacs do their bit in here and we'll do ours out there. Going to have your brother home safe and sound before the night is out – ya hear? Come on…time to go."

Miles would not be adding any more names to his list. Not today.

…

…

Part 6

He'd never say the words, but there was something to be said for freedom in servitude.

Granted not the freedom to choose, of course not. But there was no need to think, no hesitation behind the swing of his muscles as another splicer's teeth caved in around the heavy metal of his wrench. There was no doubt or guilt, barely a single personal thought stuck in his skull. Just the order of the man holding his chains and the momentary thought of how to achieve whatever it was that had been demanded of him.

It was easy. The easiest thing Sebastian had ever done in his long life. This may have, in part, had to do with the fact it was programed into him to be obedient. Once the resistance was gone, his mind fell into a comfortable lull, happy to do as it was meant to without Sinclair's incessant griping.

What was less easy were the moments when personality was once again required. If Blaire called him over, told him to speak his thoughts when there were none in his head, Sinclair had to break away from that carefree haze and become himself again. These moments were… _difficult_ to say the least.

Usually accompanied by the weight of all his guilt and disgust hitting him at once. Perhaps Blaire knew this, maybe that was why he insisted on calling Sebastian back into focus, just to see all the wretched emotions play out on his face again. Without fail he'd grin and utter something along the lines of, "There you are." Always sounding so pleased once he saw the lucidity return to Sebastian's wide eyes.

Thankfully he had not called him back for some time now. Sinclair could feel Jeremy at his back, ever aware of the man's position in regards to his own. Vigilant to make sure there was no chance a rouge splicer could make its way to its target. If Blaire had to fire his gun Sebastian would have fallen short in his primary purpose and that – his programing screamed – was unacceptable.

Sebastian knew they were getting closer to where Blaire's office was, if only because Blaire kept muttering to himself about Martin being in there and all the different kinds of dead he would be once Jeremy got his hands on the sick bastard. The sooner he got Blaire to that office, the sooner he'd be safe from the splicers and Sebastian will have completed his task of safe guarding him to the office. Although he held out little hope for this potential cure to ADAM sickness that Martin had apparently holed up with.

Straightening out his spine Sebastian stood motionless over what he guessed to be the last lead head splicer around. The screaming and mad rantings had all fallen silent with this last corpse being added to the pile. Taking in a deep breath Sebastian began the usual process of checking his supplies, reloading all his guns and shooting another blast of EVE through his veins. It took a little longer than it once had, a whole assortment of new weapons having been gathered over his endeavors.

It was while Sinclair was making sure he was prepared for the next wave of madmen that he heard it. The distant happy chanting of a little sister. Abruptly his personality returned to him, a quick, sharp clarity that momentarily stunned Sebastian into stillness. With the EVE hypo still in hand, needle digging into his wrist, Sebastian perked up looking in the direction of the girl's voice. Then just as quickly he turned to look at Blaire, awaiting approval anxiously. He was afraid Blaire might decide this time to retract his earlier 'generosity' but Blaire only gave him that slightly irritated stare before waving him off. The 'go ahead' gesture was more than enough.

This was the only instance where Sebastian did not bemoan the return of his clarity, these rare instances where he could do some good. The only thing that still brought a genuine smile to his face and a fleeting sense of relief.

He felt no regret for his actions when this was the trade off.

Cautiously Sebastian turned a corner, looking for any sigh of a metal daddy or splicers. But the entire place seemed to be silent, nothing but the quiet hum of a sister to fill the air. Sebastian could have sworn he was the only thing so much as moving when he set foot into the room.

Then he saw her.

Dirty, torn dress, glowing eyes and all. The little sister stood by one of their crawl spaces, humming and tilting from foot to foot. The tune was dead, toneless and the trill of her doubled voice sent a familiar chill down his spine but too reminded Sebastian that he'd have to adjust his voice for her. To replicate that unnatural hum in order to keep the child from panicking at the sight of him.

Glancing around Sebastian failed to see any sign of a big daddy. Not even a whiff of the usual putrid stench that accompanied the beasts wherever they went. It seemed as though this child was truly without a guardian and it was just as well there were no splicers around or this would have been the end of her. But Sebastian didn't approach any closer, keeping his distance and silence as he watched the singing child.

He'd heard of the 'if it's too good to be true' saying and this was looking decidedly too good.

It wasn't until father Martin's voice cut through the air that Sebastian _knew_ this had to be some kind of trap. "The only way out of this place is the truth. Accept the gospel and all doors will open before you." On instinct Sebastian spun on the ball of his foot, a warning already tearing from his throat just as the doors he'd come through slid shut tight behind him, effectively separating monster from master.

Frantic Sebastian rushed the gates, slamming his palms flat against them to see if they'd give. Through the gaps of the metal he could see Blaire, looking rightfully alarmed and just as angry. Rather than approach the divide he took a step back. "Kid, your telekinesis." He reminded sharply, although judging by the strained panic in his voice, he suspected it would do no good.

Sebastian obeyed all the same picking up the first piece of debris he could find and flinging it at the doors. Barely more than a scratch and the slab of concrete broke apart uselessly where it hit. Once the dust cleared Blaire snarled under his breath. "This is what I get for ordering the best security." He muttered sourly before glancing back to Sebastian. "The entire place is going to be on lock down. We're not going anywhere until all those doors open back up. Sinclair, you'll need to meet me at the office. No way to bust through those gates without a direct override."

"But if I'm not with you…!" Sebastian began, hands once again pressed urgently against the bars. The terrified words never got all the way out but Blaire seemed to have understood his panic and smiled thinly in response.

"Keep your radio close, kid. Don't forget who you're-"

Both men looked up as Martin's voice returned, cutting through Blaire's instructions sharply. "Each new tyrant ventured here in search of conquest, child. First Murkoff and now you, false apostle. But every aspiring Caesar must learn to fear the knives of his fellows. Ask yourself... what does the heretic doctor stand to gain by keeping your secrets, heathen?"

At first it seemed as though Blaire was merely tired of Martin's voice, not unlike everything else he'd said but as the words 'heretic doctor' were spoken suddenly Blaire was all ears. Startling he grabbed for the radio at his hip, calling into it for an answer from Rick. He waited, radio held up tightly. Even from this distance Sebastian could see Blaire's fingers shaking when he pressed the button down and tried again to get a response from Rick. Nothing.

Fists clenched tight at his sides Blaire turned to look straight into a security camera, looking as though he would have liked nothing more than to scream but couldn't muster more than a hushed snarl. "What have you done with Rick?" He asked and Sebastian shuddered just listening to the pure venom that saturated every syllable.

But it was Martin's purred satisfaction that really had Sebastian's blood running cold. "Yes, what of Trager. The man who would enslave god's messengers and sell utopia... what of him now?"

"Listen here you fucking creep, when I get my hands on you-!"

Now Blaire was shouting but his words were overshadowed by a distant scream. "Your suffering is over now. These men will ease your burden. Please understand that like all I have done, this … is an act of god." Martin told them gently the words followed quickly by the howls of splicers off in the distance.

Cursing viciously Blaire turned to take one look towards the source of the racket before looking once again at Sinclair. "My office." He instructed sharply, tone leaving no room for debate. "Twenty minutes, don't you dare be late." Pausing for just a second Blaire cast Sebastian a look that might have been just a touch apologetic. "Keep an ear out kid." Sebastian felt dreadful as he watched Blaire run out of view, wanting to do anything to ensure Blaire would be safe but there wasn't a damn thing he could besides flick his radio back on and do at he was told.

Twisting to look over his shoulder, towards what he guessed was the direction of the office and the location of Martin. He tried not to think about who may have made the sound. Sebastian next tried to look for another way out of this trap of a room, but when he turned he found the little sister at his feet smiling expectantly up at him.

Startled Sebastian only thought to stare back at her for a second before his senses kicked back in. Separated or not he still had to save this sister and so he switched to the plasmid Lisa had given to him so long ago and took to one knee by the girl.

"Why would you wish to remove your sister from her divine existence, child?" Martin asked, voice closer this time. He was using selective speakers now, no longer addressing all of the building, now speaking directly to Sebastian who did his damndest to tune him out.

Divine existence, the words sat uncomfortably in his mind, a note of disgust attached to them. There was nothing divine about the work of men's greed and so Martin's question went ignored as Sebastian worked to find that unnatural voice deep inside of his throat that would sooth the girl, though she hardly seemed to need it. This pause gave Martin ample time to go on.

"She is your sister, child! Do not forsake family for the false apostle." He urged but Sebastian was in no way doing this for Blaire of all people. This was for the girl – for family. Smiling faintly Sebastian offered his arms to the sister and was relieved when she rushed into them. Murmuring to her gently in that freakish voice Sebastian laid his hand atop her head.

Only to be stopped short by her voice. "Brother Sebastian?" While he hadn't hesitated on Martin's command he did stop when the sister spoke, peering up at him curiously with those bright yellow eyes of hers. Then she smiled and Sebastian couldn't immediately put his finger on what it was that scared him about that. She provided an answer with what she said next. "I'm glad that you're safe, big brother was very worried. He missed you very much, but we'll all be together again now." Then the young girl pointed towards the opposite side of the room. Following her direction Sebastian saw a flimsily bolted shut opening. The vent easily large enough for him to squeeze through. "You can go through there to find him."

A chill rushed down Sebastian's spine. Fearing what that might mean for him, if Riley appeared now and saw him as he was…Sebastian tried not to think about it. Instead he focused on the child and finished destroying the slug in the lining of her stomach. As always a wave of relief rolled over him once the child was freed from that wretched existence, yellow eyes fading back to a set of sweet brown hues. The usual motions carried through, confusion and then gladness.

The child thanked him and Sebastian murmured back quiet words for her to be safe as she head back to Lisa and Waylon's care. Helping her up into the vent once again. The dark haired girl paused only for a moment, looking between Sebastian and the dark cavern of the vent's opening. "Will you be safe too? You'll be back with us soon won't you?" She asked quietly and Sebastian was so startled by the question he almost forgot to lie convincingly. He tried to smile when he nodded but even that small lie left him feeling hollowed out on the inside.

He couldn't go back, Sebastian knew that and as the child naïvely believed him with a smile of her own – his heart broke that little bit more.

She'd only just vanished from sight when Sebastian heard the distant sound of a gun being fired. The echo of the bullet being shot jerked him back into motion, the only thought present in his head a very sobering one. That had to be Jeremy.

Prying the metal grate free of its screws, Sebastian took only a second to peer into the vent. Hesitating for at long as the silence between gunshots persisted. Another fired and in he went. All he could do was hope the sister was not perfectly accurate in her instructions. Crawling through the vent as quickly as his hands and feet would allow in the tight space, Sebastian occasionally caught sight of the outside world through the few grates and gaps in the vent. Most looked exactly the same as the rest of Rapture, the only difference was that some of the bodies he caught sight of were fresh. Their blood still pooling out where they'd been shot. Which meant that there'd definitely been a fight through this way and Sebastian was on the right track.

As the path ended Sebastian found the final opening and knew this was where the line stopped. Jamming his foot against the grate separating him from the rest of Rapture. It took two kicks to knock the metal loose but finally it gave falling to the ground with a loud crash. Sebastian slid out a moment later, landing atop the fallen grill. He'd come out into a mess of blood and bodies, all fresh enough to be worthy of concern but it was the state of the bodies that really bothered Sebastian.

Even at a quick glance he could see some of these killing blows were not dealt by a pistol. A few of the bodies had been torn, shredded by something more vicious than a gun or knife. At a guess Sebastian would say a daddy must have come this way, taking down splicers with its drill but a few of the bodies weren't even the work of a big daddy's drill. Some looked more like they'd been torn apart with something's hands.

The analysis of the situation took all of five seconds and Sebastian could spare no more than that. Turning on the ball of his foot to run down the hall. He was met with absolutely no resistance, likely all the splicers this way had been taken care of and judging by how the sound of a fight got closer with every step he took he'd find all the remaining splicers up towards Blaire's office.

Splicers he'd expected, hell he'd even pulled out his go to crowd dealing plasmid, nothing caught a group of splicers in a bind than a fist full of bees. Except what Sebastian found himself faced with when he turned that final corner was exactly what he'd hoped wouldn't be there.

At first he felt relief at seeing Jeremy still alive and standing, that relief quickly turned sour when in the next second he saw the state Blaire was in. Clutching his side with one hand, the other used to keep his gun up as blood seeped through his fingers. The man had one eye shut in an effort to keep the blood out of it that came running down from his forehead where a sizable gash sat. Injuries aside Jeremy looked ragged and out of breath, arm shaking with the effort of keeping his gun raised.

"Jeremy!"

Startled by Sebastian's voice the hand holding the gun lowered just a fraction as Jeremy instinctively looked in the direction of his monster. Sebastian had not expected the wide eyed look of terror that met him. "Kid, get the hell out of here!" Blaire shouted at him with an urgency in his voice that briefly took the speed out of Sebastian's steps. Confused he stumbled to a near halt, unable to understand why Blaire would order him away when he clearly needed help.

Fortunate he had slowed in his approach, had he kept at the pace he'd been moving with before Sebastian would have been in the exact spot that a moment later exploded in a shower of cement.

His arms whipped up to protect his face from the cascade of debris, a few pieces of shattered cement catching his arms and face as they flew past, littering cuts where his skin was exposed. Peering past his own defensively raised arms, Sebastian caught sight of Blaire's hardened expression and clenched jaw as he jerked the gun back up in the direction of the thing that had just landed between himself and Sinclair.

The familiar whirl of a drill roaring into life momentarily mislead him into thinking it was a daddy that had landed squarely between him and his objective. Difficult but certainly nothing he couldn't handle provided Jeremy got himself clear.

Except Sebastian's mind began to assign complications to this initial assumption. Like the fact the body that uncurled from where it had landed, drill whipping out to the side as it spun back into motion, was too small and made of flesh rather than metal. That was a human's form and it took only a second more for the truth of the situation to settle in and Sebastian was sure his heart stopped the moment understanding washed over him.

It was a split decision to swap out his plasmid for the wrench as Sebastian rushed the larger man. Similarly it seemed to only be a coincidence that he was met with the barrel of a shotgun rather than the drill. The gun almost gave way under the force of the wrench flying down across its barrel, were it anyone else they would not have been able to hold steady with only one arm lifting the weapon, oh but his brother was built for it just like he was.

Surprise registered in Riley's eyes when he saw Sebastian standing opposite him. Confusion came next as it stole precious seconds away from Riley's defense, Sebastian had no such hindrance – having already dealt with his shock before lifting the wrench. With a sharp turn and an outward throw of his leg Sebastian slammed his foot squarely into his older brother's chest, sending the other monster flying back a few feet not braced or prepared for the sudden strike.

The urge to turn and get a visual on Blaire again was almost overpowering but Sebastian knew better than to turn away from a potential attack. Especially one that was being delivered by someone like himself. He distantly recalled his encounter with Billy and while Riley was by no means the same monstrous creature that Billy had become – Sebastian knew better than to underestimate his brother. A virtue that could not be extended to Riley, who still seemed more shocked by what was happening as opposed to actually being hurt by the attack.

Straightening up Sebastian did his best to continue taking steady breaths while facing his brother. Mind racing with all the things he couldn't possibly say to explain himself. Even if he'd tried Sebastian knew there'd be no way to convey to Riley how the situation had twisted out of his control. There was no influence of a trigger phrase commanding his actions for the time being and that was the smallest freedom he had. The one thing he could fight to keep – Riley wouldn't understand how delicate it all was. Wouldn't understand how ingrained the urge to protect his master was.

Or maybe….

Sebastian's eyes drifted to the drill his brother used as a crutch in that moment, one arm hooked under his chest where Sebastian had struck him and the drill jammed into the ground to keep him upright. Perhaps Riley might understand the urge to protect, he'd been hardwired to protect the sisters after all. But it was the nature of any moral person to guard those girls, there was no logical reasoning or morality behind Sebastian's need to protect Blaire.

"Seb…" His brother's voice was wretched, racked with confusion as he stared at his younger brother. Horror reflecting in his eyes. "What are you doing?"

Rather than answer Sebastian instead fired up inferno, a clear display of aggression. A warning to back off he dearly hoped Riley would take. He knew that would not be the case when Riley's eyes hardened, expression turning cold as his gaze fleetingly flicked over Sebastian's shoulder. Towards Blaire no doubt. "What did you do?" He seethed, easing guardedly back to his feet, wary of Sebastian's movements. "What did you _do_!?"

There was no answer from behind Sinclair. Good. If there had been it might have just been coloured with a kindly word Sebastian could not ignore. Instead it was Sebastian that took a step forward and spoke. The words directed at Blaire. "Go ahead." He instructed flatly, were the situation any different he would not have been brave enough to give orders. "Get to your office, I'll meet you there when I'm finished here."

A pause.

Sebastian cringed, expecting an order in return. "Remember what I said about being late." Was what he heard instead. Surprised Sebastian actually began to turn to look Jeremy's way. A mistake.

He heard Riley's drill jerk free of the ground, recognizing the danger a moment later. Abruptly snapping his attention back to his brother Sebastian moved before fully taking in the situation. Rushing to the side to catch Riley by the throat before he could get past him. It was no easy task, Riley weighed a ton but it was the speed that gave Sebastian the edge. Throwing his brother downward. Riley crashed into the ground, leaving cracks scattered along the floor. It was a hard hit but no more than a second later the man was back on his feet, a good distance away from Sebastian again and snarling.

Sinclair didn't turn his gaze away a second time, and instead contented himself to hear Blaire's footsteps as he ran down the other pathway and towards his office. Until they had access to it the doors out of this place would remain locked up tight.

That hard stare didn't soften in the slightest, behind it there was still confusion as Riley tried to make sense of what he was seeing. Let him believe it was the effect of his mental conditioning, or let him think his brother had simply broken. Sebastian didn't say anything to convince him one-way or the other. Instead he remained silent, waiting for the sound of Blaire's footsteps to grow fainter until he could no longer hear him.

Only then did Sebastian right his spine, looking at Riley with as much coldness as he could muster. Best not to let his brother know he was breaking on the inside.

Unlike himself Riley had absolutely no qualms about expressing every horrible emotion that raced through him. "What are you doing?" He demanded, voice rising to a shout. "Protecting that man? What did he do to you?"

Sebastian ground his teeth together, would have bitten off his tongue if he thought it would do any good. "Don't get any closer." He instructed, the effort of keeping his words even nearly impossible to keep. "I won't allow you to get any closer to Blaire."

There was a moment where it seemed Riley would have torn right through Sebastian just to get at the bastard. But then an eerie calm settled over the older monster, followed quickly by a cold smile. "Fine." Sebastian's heart stuttered, undeniably afraid of that voice. Low, echoed and not even close to human. "I don't need to get any closer."

For a moment those words didn't add up in Sebastian's mind but then there was the telltale sound of Jeremy gun from down the hall and in an instant Sebastian was turning even as that small voice at the back of his mind murmured that this was better. Better that Jeremy die and Sebastian be free from him finally. That voice was quickly drowned out by the panic that roared through his mind.

He should have learnt from the first time that it was always a mistake to turn his back on Riley. He'd not expected a man of his brother's size to move as fast as he did. The result, Sebastian was quickly trapped under Riley's arm as it curled around his throat, the drill resting across his torso – a warning not to move. Riley might as well have been made of stone for how movable he felt in that moment, his arm curling tighter around Sebastian's throat until he was struggling just to drag in another breath.

"Lisa will set you right." Riley promised, voice hushed but no less vicious. "I don't want to hurt you, but if you insist…" The arm tightened further and Sebastian couldn't even choke down a single breath, as his windpipe was painfully crushed shut. "…I know where the closest vita-chamber is."

The panic that overtook Sebastian now was purely self-motivated. Memories of the chamber rushing back into his head as the oxygen failed to. Where he'd remained still in Riley's immovable hold before, now he struggled feverishly. Desperate not to go back to that wretched chamber.

With a grunt of effort Riley was able to keep Sebastian secure for most of his struggling, then noticed he only clawed at the arm holding him with one hand. The other was bandaged up. Making the connection quickly Riley pressed the rough edge of the drill punishingly into Sebastian's wounded hand. He winced when his brother howled in pain, losing what remained of his oxygen.

Even with his arm constricting around his little brother's throat, Riley buried his head into the younger monster's shoulder, uttering quiet apologies in the voice he would use with a little sister. A vain attempt to comfort his brother while he stole away his air. "Didn't want to do this to you." He muttered grimly at one point and it broke his heart to do this, but it hurt more to see his brother so completely trapped by the man that commissioned him.

Riley would have killed anyone in order to free Sebastian from that. Morbidly that included Sebastian himself.

Then abruptly Riley's attention shifted hearing Martin's voice coming from the speakers. "It is a sad sight to see brother's fighting among themselves. To see angels turned against one another by man. Poor soul. Don't be afraid, you're doing His work. Whether you know it or not." For his part Riley rather hated listening to Martin's nonsense, he didn't see anything in this horrible place as 'divine' certainly not himself or the state of the little sisters.

But in this instance Martin's voice served as more than a simple distraction. "Worry not child. When in need our lord will not forsake you." Then there was the shriek and Riley's arms very nearly went slack. Enough that Sebastian was able to choke down a gulp of air but was not free enough to move.

"Billy?" Riley muttered under his breath, recognizing that distant wail.

He hadn't so much as caught a glimpse the oldest of the three brothers in years, almost as long as Sebastian had been missing. Part of him had thought Billy dead, the only evidence to the contrary being the occasional banshee wail that could be heard through Rapture, but most days Riley refused to acknowledge that sound. Thinking the abomination Murkoff had made had completely swallowed up the brother he once had. It was the fear that the same thing would happen to Sebastian that drove Riley to such extreme measures.

But that sound was definitely Billy or rather the thing he'd become that Martin called the Walrider.

For the first time the mistake was on Riley's end. His momentary distraction costing him his grasp on Sebastian. He was startled when the flames exploded out from Sebastian's hand, burning both brothers in the close proximity. Sebastian screamed, copping the worst of the heat but he got what he wanted, breaking free of Riley's grasp as the older man cursed sharply, angry red burns dotting the arm he'd had curled around Sebastian.

Stumbling away the blonde's scream turned into quiet agonized groans, he'd burnt his own face and arm in that little stunt, were he anyone else Sebastian would have likely lit himself up and burnt alive. It was only his manufactured body that kept him able to move and fight through the pain.

Riley attempted to regain his balance but Sebastian was quicker than he was. Lashing out the moment he had his own two feet back under him. This time Riley was not lucky enough to catch the wrench with the barrel of his shotgun. Taking the full brunt of the strike as it came crashing down across his face. Snarling Riley felt something break, felt blood oozing out from a newly formed injury above his eye but he'd taken worse. He was designed to take far worse than that. Sebastian was still curled forward from the strike when Riley's knee came flying up, catching him in the gut. The blow pushed all the air out of Sebastian's lungs and Riley heard the sound of the blonde gagging, likely coughing up a splash of blood but Riley was moving again. Reaching down to grasp Sebastian by the back of his hoodie and fling him in the direction of the closest wall. The collision was little more than a dull thud but he was sure that something in his brother must have cracked upon impact.

As such he was genuinely surprised when Sebastian got right back to his feet and lunged at him again. This time he was ready for his brother, batting away the wrench with a single sturdy swing of his drill. He saw his brother flinch as the force of that blow traveled up the length of his arm, Riley did sometimes forget how powerful the drill was even without being powered up.

With his weapon of choice lost somewhere in the distance behind him, Sebastian went to his second choice, lighting up electro bolt in his fist. The first blast of electricity rushed past Riley's face and he cringed, feeling it licking at his sides. Plasmids were harder to deal with, making it near impossible to get any closer without the risk of being set ablaze or lit up like a Christmas tree. Riley had never been able to use them, never gotten himself shot up with ADAM in that particular way, although Trager had frequently remarked on how much he would have liked trying a few out on him.

Riley always had wondered why Trager never had.

The result of his lack of experience with the blasted things, Riley fell into easy traps. He realised a moment too late that the thing he'd thought to be his brother and consequently tried to strike with the drill was little more than a decoy. He had heard about this plasmid but never actually seen it in use until that moment. Stunned Riley whipped around to try and catch sight of his brother, only to be struck with the full force of a shot of lightening.

Lightening raced up his body, burning right into his very bones, sending every muscle taunt as it tore at his nerves. Roaring in pain Riley dropped to his knees, the static discharge still jumping across his skin as he fell still on the ground at his brother's feet. Above him Sebastian was still holding a fist full of lightening and staring down at Riley with what the older man could only refer to as murder in his eyes. There was evidence of his earlier use of inferno, an angry red burn running up around the left side of his face, a stark contrast for his blue eyes. They were glowing and Riley recognized that look in an instant.

He wasn't all there.

It was in no small part desperation that had Riley's eyes begin to shine right back. Echoing Sebastian's luminous gaze with his own. Sebastian's body stuttered to an uncertain halt, the plasmid in his hand dying away at the sight of the older monster's eyes – recognizing them as family.

Riley knew it was unnatural, knew it made Miles uneasy to even look at him when his eyes lit up like this. It was to be expected that humans would recoil from the eerie glow, it marked them as things that did not belong in the natural world. Of course it would unsettle regular folks…but for other monsters? It might as well have been the most comforting thing in the world – it was proof of family. The little sisters trusted those eyes, their own burned a bright yellow and Riley noticed they always shone that little bit brighter when met with his own. Blue some of the girls called his eyes, green a few others argued – but Sebastian's were undeniably blue as he stared down at his brother, still unmoving as his mind processed the sight of another monster's gaze looking up at him.

He saw Sebastian's hand tremble, watched as some kind of control returned to him and he was once again all there. It seemed as though Sebastian had been about to speak, but whatever words he might have offered up were lost under the ear-splitting shriek that cut through the air.

Sebastian did not even had the chance to fully turn and face the source of the cry before the Walrider was on him. There was a scream of terror from Sebastian as the monster leapt down onto him from the ceiling, sending them both crashing down to the floor.

Their bodies were created to bare much punishment, but the Walrider was a creature made to dish out ten times that amount and Sebastian was about as efficient as a toddler against the Walrider's advances. Stumbling back to his feet, Riley looked over as the creature pinned the youngest of them down, letting loose a series of shrill cries and snarls that sounded to Riley like a warning. Still Sebastian kicked and screamed, trying to get free of the thing.

There was nothing human about the Walrider really. Perhaps its body was humanoid is structure but it had no face, no way to express any emotion besides its screeching. Even now all Riley could see was a mass of black shadows, the faintest green outline across its form, he couldn't see anything that looked remotely like a person inside of it.

And yet… "Billy!" The creature stilled when Riley called the name of the boy it had been made from and then ever so slowly it inched its head back to peer at Riley. Under its clawed hands Sebastian too had turned still. At a glance Riley had been concerned but he could still see the steady rise and fall of Sebastian's chest. Cautiously Riley took a step forward, hands raised in what he hoped were some kind of peaceful approach.

Then he tried something that made him feel sick to his stomach. "Are you all there?"

The response to the familiar phrase they'd all been programed with was immediate. The Walrider twisted and hissed unpleasantly but did not release Sebastian. This went on for a few seconds more, the creature writhing and letting out little sounds of discontent until finally Riley could just make out something human inside of it. As though it were shrugging off its own skin, the Walrider melted away a little more with every passing moment until finally through the haze of black and green – Riley could see his brother.

When the Walrider turned its head to look at Riley again, he saw the burn of its green eyes. Answering Riley's still glowing gaze.

 _Family_.

All the air in Riley's chest came out in a shuddering sigh of relief. Billy was there, maybe not as he'd once been, but still in there. "When in need." Martin's voice repeated over the speakers, sounding much calmer than he had previously. In fact he sounded pleased.

"Bring your brother up to the chapel." Is that what he was calling it now? Riley had to scowl at that, wishing very much that Martin had at least been able to blame ADAM abuse for his insanity. But no the man was mad before Rapture even found those wretched slugs. "And we'll see if we can undo the devil's deeds. How fitting that the true witness should be the one to capture the fake. This can be nothing other than divine providence."

Still wary Riley approached both his brothers. "Can you help me?" He asked Billy gently, knowing he'd need their eldest brother to help get the youngest to Martin's 'chapel' without further incident.

It was a welcome relief to see Billy still understood human speech and nodded wordlessly in response. What Riley wouldn't have done to hug Billy just then, but he knew better. Billy might still be in there, but so was the Walrider. Best not to push his luck.

Honestly Riley would have rather taken Sebastian right back to Lisa but with a cautious glance Billy's way he knew that wasn't on the table right now. Besides he couldn't very well leave without Miles and the man had gone on ahead of him. Good thing too, otherwise he would have lost Blaire for sure.

Miles might not like it one bit, but they still had words to exchange with the mad priest.

When an opportunity presents itself…

…  
…

He couldn't fight them both.

Sebastian knew the moment the Walrider arrived that he'd lost that fight. Even if it had only been Walrider, he wouldn't have been able to compete. He had no choice but to fall still once he was outmatched. All the while his terrified eyes kept flicking to different escape routes, none were viable so long as Billy was there.

Billy…

Even thinking his other brother's name felt unnatural. Sebastian had not known who he was the first time they met, but now when he looked at the other monster all he could think of was how he'd felt while unplugging Wernicke's life support. This supposed brother of his had loved their father. Sebastian knew it was hypocritical of him to find that as abhorrent as he did.

After all, did he not too love his creator to some capacity?

No matter how twisted or deranged it was – they were creatures that loved the men that made them. It just so happened that not one of them had been given love in return. As he was unwillingly pulled up to the place he'd been trying to reach before his brother's intervened, Sebastian distantly wondered if that too was part of their programing. That feverish need to garner the love of the men that made them, despite there being no chance they'd ever get it.

Part of him hoped it was.

The exhaustion he'd been fighting since his encounter with Chris Walker had finally caught up to him. He'd depleted his EVE and worked his body to its limits while fighting with Riley, the broken bones scattered around his body all beginning to make themselves more known. His hand was aching horribly, the small patch up job Blaire had done for him coming undone after Riley jammed his drill into the bandages. He was falling apart and he knew it, which was why Sebastian was unsurprised to find himself slipping in and out of consciousness while his brothers moved him.

It was a small mercy that most of the Walrider's monstrous exterior had melted away, leaving the frail looking human underneath visible as Sebastian was carried. Being cradled in his older brother's arms rather than dragged along the ground, which was more than he deserved surely.

However when he came back to awareness only to see all the lights had been killed, replaced by a mass of candles – Sebastian much preferred being unconscious. But once he'd seen the strange scene, he couldn't let his eyes slip shut again, afraid of what might happen while he was out of it.

Perhaps he whimpered, made some sound of weakness, because Billy's arms tightened around him. It was almost comforting the way he was being hugged to his older brother's chest. Despite everything a horrible traitorous part of Sebastian curled tighter into Billy's arms, craving even the smallest shred of tenderness. They were…family after all. That thought still sat uncomfortably in his mind, likely because the last time he'd dared refer to another monster as family Blaire had not taken it so well.

Peering past his brother's arms Sebastian could see the extent of Martin's tampering with the shell of Blaire's company. The candles that had all been painstakingly lit for the occasion – at least he hoped it was an occasion determined lighting otherwise that meant someone was setting and relighting candles all the time – illuminated the walls. All of which had blood scrawled notes across them.

He did not try terribly hard to read the manic writings but even without trying he picked up a few reoccurring words. _Follow the Blood_ , as though there was anyway in Rapture to identify just one trail of blood. _Down the Drain_ said another and Sebastian might have found that amusing when thinking about Rapture being their grave under the sea were it not for the fact they were all trapped down here.

Eventually Billy paused, the gentle side-to-side rock of his steps stilling and once again pulling Sebastian back to the surface. Having been close to slipping away again. Wearily Sebastian looked up, saw the name scrawled over the door and found it in him to sneer.

Of course Blaire would have his name hanging above the door in big bold letters, the man had no sense of humility.

Besides the doors Sebastian saw posters, all of which said Murkoff had seized the company. For all the good it did them in the long run.

Riley pushed open the door and Sebastian nearly groaned when he saw that the candle situation had doubled in mass beyond them. What had once been an office that Blaire would have been happy with had been turned into a rather ridiculous display of 'faith'. But behind the clumsily made alter and burning torches, Sebastian could see the echo of what the office had once been.

A large desk placed just beyond the alter, directly in view of the doors and elevated above the ground level to sit against the backdrop of the deep sea. It took no imagination at all to picture Blaire seated up there back in a time before Sebastian had even be conceptualized. A king awaiting his newest throne to be handed to him while still entertaining the one he already sat upon.

Billy strode into the room, not at all concerned by the unusual display of religious symbolism, almost all of it dedicated to him. Or rather the Walrider. Unconcerned by the gathered splicers that all shrank away as they stepped inside, Billy gently carried his little, barely conscious, brother inside.

It wasn't until they'd passed a fair distance into Martin's ridiculous cult that Sebastian saw it.

Hanging off to the side of the alter, and Blaire's former throne, was a large painting.

Sebastian frowned as his eye caught sight of the thing; it was a portrait of a family. It looked like a lovely picture of the family of three. At least it had been, someone had defaced it.

The woman in the photo had _witch_ written across her face, _heretic_ across the man's face and over the young boy in the picture, someone had written _false witness_ in blood.

It was only the inclusion of that final insult that cemented the purpose of this painting in Sebastian's mind – that was Blaire's family?

The thought didn't seem to fit somehow, as though this image was some kind of contradiction. But of course Blaire did have parents, he'd been born after all. Although perhaps Sebastian should have known better – he barely had a father and hadn't the foggiest if a woman was ever involved in his conception or not. _Motherless freak_ , rung in his head.

Regardless, the sight of the painting hanging in Blaire's office left Sebastian a little uneasy.

"Oh dear, child." Martin's voice on the other hand had every single muscle in Sebastian's body tensing up in dread.

It was childish but in an effort to stay as far away from Martin as was humanly possible he clung to Billy, curling tighter in his arms as the old man approached them.

Curiously Billy peered down at his apprehensive brother. As though he couldn't even begin to understand why Sebastian was recoiling from the mere human man. Justifiably so, after all even in his sorry state right now Sebastian could no doubt snap father Martin's neck.

There was nothing hostile in the man's movements as he reached out towards Sebastian, the robes he's adorned nearly able to hide away his frail body. It was only as he reached forward, revealing his lanky fingers and bone arm that Sebastian could see how feeble the holy man's body was. There was a growl of warning from Billy's side when Martin pressed his hand against Sebastian's face, Riley might have come all this way but he never gave the man free reign to touch his brother.

Martin glanced in his direction; gaze benevolent and more patient than Riley was likely to be in return. "Rest easy, angel." Riley scowled at the title, wishing Martin would put an end to this ridiculous half-baked religion he'd built around the Walrider. There were no angels in Rapture and once the final sister was safe there'd be no reason to pretend otherwise. "Your brother merely needs a helping hand."

Riley very nearly felt her presence before he heard the sister crawling out of the vent at the corner of the room. Her little limbs made a bit of a racket as she came crawling out and it was purely an instinctual reaction that dragged Riley away from his brothers to collect her.

There was a giddiness filling up his chest, this was the final child. The last one that still had glowing eyes and ADAM rushing like poison through her veins. This one last girl…Riley couldn't seem to stop smiling as he gently hooked his hands under the girl's arms. Lifting her free of that golden vent and carefully onto the ground. Her beaming smile looking up at him, invoking a familiar rumble of comfort from deep within his chest.

"Going to have to forget that habit after this." Turning Riley was met with Miles's tight grin.

Not far behind Miles there sat the bastard Riley had very nearly had the chance to impale on his drill. Blaire didn't seem to be conscious, Miles's work no doubt.

Frankly it was impressive he was not dead, Miles had either exercised near superhuman restraint or the 'king' of Rapture was tougher than he appeared. But for the time being he was unconscious and judging by the tape over his mouth – appropriately gagged.

It had been quite a shock to learn that Lisa's work had been undone. But there was a small relief; it was not a perfect installation of the commands. Although this ought to have been nothing except a good thing, there was still one painful catch to it all. Sebastian had once been hardwired to respond to the WYK command without fail regardless of who spoke it. Now he only responded to one of two voices – both of which Blaire could produce.

The gag was a requirement, not a whim.

However, Miles just so happened to be in possession of the second voice. They all knew that if he so much as slipped, for even a second managed to misuse that power – Riley would have him dead where he stood before the final word of three was uttered. But…Riley trusted Miles. For all his quirks and irritations – Riley truly did trust his friend not to do anything that would strip them of their freedom.

Miles was attempting to appear optimistic despite the tense situation. He too recognized what this sister meant. The final thing that could tie them to the dying city. Get this girl back safely and they'd finally be able to leave. All they needed now was for Martin to give up his lifeboat to them.

It was very nearly impossible for Riley to hold in his anticipation. There was plenty of fear still left in him but with the young girls' hand in his own and Miles at his side, Riley felt he could be optimistic as well. "Why have you called one of my sisters here?" He asked Martin tightly, not trusting the man even as he made claims of the little sister's divinity. For all he knew this little cult was into the sacrifice of divine children.

Father Martin's smile remained gentle as he coaxed both Riley and the sister closer. "Your brother needs only a helping hand of the child to be what he was always meant to be. As you have become their guardian, messenger to the Walrider, your brother too must take his rightful place. Then he will be free of his man made shackles."

By his side Riley swore he heard Miles mutter something about Martin being as batty as a splicer under his breath. Riley wholeheartedly agreed but through all of Martin's rantings there was a common thread that intrigued him. "You can help him." Riley would have preferred Lisa's help, but they'd tried that and it seemed to have all been undone in those past few weeks. Perhaps it would be prudent to try a different method. "How?"

Martin's smile turned further upwards and it was little more than a silent gesture of his hand that brought an answer. Riley felt the pit of his stomach drop out from under him when the splicers rushed on Martin's call, dragging forward a chair with some poor soul bound up tight to it.

At first Riley did not recognize that person, at the very least his mind refused to put a name to them after so many years hiding from the man – but it was undeniably Trager they had lashed to that chair.

The man was slumped forward; only the uneven rise and fall of his shoulders as evidence that he was still alive. The thin strands of light hair he usually kept so neatly secured were loose, falling around his face now caked in blood and unkempt. Riley had never once in his life seen the mad doctor in such a state and looking on him now sent an unnamable shock through his system. It was not quite fear and not quite anger that curled unpleasantly in his chest when looking upon his creator and tormentor – but there was no satisfaction at seeing him like this either. Riley simply felt as though it could not be real.

Then Trager moved.

It was barely more than a slight upward twitch of his head and Riley was back peddling. The sister pushed protectively behind him as he took four rapid steps away, moving right past Miles who only glanced at him in confusion for a moment. Then understanding settled in and Miles's eyes hardened a bit, knowing how frightened Riley was.

Unfortunately so too did Trager.

Laughter slipped out of the weak man's mouth, dry and bitter to the ears and then slowly he eased himself further upright. Each movement looked as though it hurt, the doctor having taken more of a beating then what his body could easily weather. "Ah...there you are Riles." Trager crooned, watching with faint amusement as every single muscle in the bulky man's body pulled tight on hearing his voice. "Don't suppose you'd give a guy a hand? For old times sake."

No words came to Riley's mind. Not even furious refusals or curses. He just kept on staring at Trager, as though he was afraid to so much as breathe with the man present. Trager waited and then laughed again when Riley failed to response. "No, I suppose not…" Then gradually shrewd eyes moved over to Martin, narrowing sharply once they rested on him. "But I'm not dead yet…so I guess that means you're not done are you? You little shit."

"You keep the tongue only to prove how useless it is against the angel now, heretic. All you could command from him is that abhorrent nightmare and I doubt you'd risk it." Martin's voice answered coldly, almost becoming an angry snarl. Quickly he returned to a more composed way of speaking. "Other voices had to be muzzled for the occasion."

It might have been entertaining to see Trager take notice of his employer and friend in a similar state to his own, had Sebastian not become aware of it at the exact same moment.

Whatever it was that Trager said in that moment of near human vulnerability was lost behind the violent panic that Sebastian responded with. Billy had not expected Sebastian to suddenly become animated again. With a small cry of alarm the blonde was struggling, kicking out of Billy's startled hold and away from Martin, a call for the man that had created him falling out of his mouth in the same moment.

Crashing to the floor Sebastian managed to get free of Billy. The startled man thought to grab at the younger brother a moment later but once Sebastian started moving he just didn't stop. Knocking aside his brother who was still too surprised to properly respond without running the risk of accidentally tearing his brother's fragile body.

Stumbling back to his feet Sebastian looked like he fully intended to rush right up the steps and to Blaire's side. He'd almost made it to the first step when-

"Stop, would you kindly."

Sebastian's body came to a shuddering halt as the familiar phrase sank its way into his bones. It was jerky, and hardly immediate. As though his mind was turning to try and process that command and failed to do so smoothly when it came from a voice it was rusty in obeying.

For a moment there was just horror and confusion, having thought he'd heard the last of those words in that particular Irish lilt. But then understanding settled in and Sebastian's heart only seemed to ache more horrible as it did.

Slowly he looked towards Miles and Riley, eyes wide with hurt. Riley had to look away, wishing Miles had not been forced to say that but also knowing it was necessary. Hearing those three words even now sent unpleasant tingles down his spine, he could not imagine how painful it was for Sebastian to hear them used against him by a friend.

However Miles did not look even mildly apologetic, eyes hard as he approached the frozen man. "You ain't right in the head, boyo." He told Sebastian flatly. "You'll be forgiving me when you are."

The scowl on Sebastian's face said otherwise. But he glared at Miles for only a few seconds before looking miserably over at his brother. " _Please_." Riley's heart tightened painfully in his chest. He was not the bad guy here, the bag guys were all tied up and for some unholy reason Sebastian seemed adamant he help at least one of them. "You don't understand…"

"No." Riley agreed flatly in an attempt to close off his heart to his brother's pleading. "I don't understand. I don't want to, Miles is right…you need help, Seb."

As he spoke, Billy stepped forward and gently drew Sebastian back to his chest, arms wound gently around his younger brother's shoulders. " _Help_." He uttered quietly, the first human word he'd spoken in years by the way it came awkwardly out of his mouth. Distorted, hitching and pulling in pitch on every letter – but still a human's voice somewhere underneath it all.

Miles watched only a moment longer before turning to look at Riley, this time there was a hint of apology behind his eyes. But there was no hesitation. "Got to get it done." He uttered under his breath, just for his friend to hear before stepping forward. Eyes hard once again as they rest on Sebastian.

"Down, boyo…" Miles murmured before adding the kindly word that made Sebastian's legs give out from under him.

Billy's embrace did not break as he sank down with his brother, holding him tight. Perhaps it was truly a sign of affection that kept his arms around his little brother's body, or maybe it was just another way to assure he didn't try running a second time.

The little sister that had huddled behind Riley gave the man's shirt a gentle tug, waiting for his cyan gaze to turn onto her. "Is it safe to help big brother now?" She whispered and Riley mustered up a small smile for her. He might not trust Martin, but he certainly did trust the child and with a small nod she went scampering out from under his feet and approached Martin who in turn produced a vile from under his robes. One that both Riley and Miles recognized in an instant.

Understanding rushed over Miles as he looked between the Lot 192 and Trager. The latter's face devolving into a feral snarl at the sight of it. And there was something else in the man's face, twisting his expression into one of shame. Something Riley didn't believe the mad doctor was capable of – _guilt_.

"Where the bleeding hell did you get that?" Miles asked, clearly not making the instant connection between the doctor's being here and the vial in Martin's hands.

Martin smiled as he opened the vial and rounded Sebastian's kneeling form. "The good doctor may not be weak of will, however he lacks the true strength of faith. Such men are not hard to break."

"We had a deal you loony fuck." Trager snarled viciously but there was little reaction from Martin. Barely more than a shrug.

"You wished to be cured." Martin reminded, as though Trager were a mere child throwing a tantrum over some lost toy. "Murkoff has led us astray, wandering confused and alone in the dark. But Walrider shows us that we are not alone, we are together, as a family. The cure you seek can only be found in its guiding hand. Our lord, the Walrider tears his truth into the unbelievers and so to does he cure wicked souls such as yours."

Clearly this was not how their 'deal' had originally been phrased but Martin seemed to have no qualms about cheating a swindler. Instead he gestured for the sister who went about piercing her skin with the needle all sisters carried with them. Riley watched as the red glow of her ADAM infused blood fill the glass end of the needle. Once she withdrew it, the child handed the needle over to father Martin readily and Riley nearly kicked himself when he saw the man add it into the mixture. ADAM was likely the cause and answer to most problems in Rapture, but the ADAM that existed in a little sister was special when compared to what came directly from those disgusting slugs.

That final ingredient seemed to do it and the concoction looked exactly like the one Sebastian had once set out to find. Only to have Trager drop it right in front of him.

For the first time Sebastian was watching Martin with something other than fear or disgust. "That…that can't work." He muttered, staring at the vial as though it was some impossible thing. "I can't be free. It won't work. I…I _can't_." The broken edge to Sebastian's quiet words nearly had Riley firing up his drill just to jam it between Blaire's fucking eyes, knowing that the helplessness Sebastian had bored into his head was all that man's doing.

Rather than become angry as Riley did, Martin kept perfectly calm and eased down to his knees in front of Sebastian and Billy, still with that fatherly smile. "Now my child, do not fear. You have a calling; your brother has already ascended. An angel has become god. Our lord Walrider born from your brother's divine suffering. The brothers of our lord are destined to become his holy apostles. Only you remain and you are so close to joining them, come son. See what you can become. What are you destined to be."

Besides all of Martin's ridiculous insinuations that Billy was a god – an idea that Riley didn't fancy in the slightest – there was still some good to come of his ramblings.

When the concoction was offered to Sebastian the man didn't seem to know what to do. It wasn't until Billy's hands dropped down to gently loop around his wrists and raise his arms that Sebastian seemed to remember he could move at all. Trembling he took the vial into shaky hands. He gaze nervously flicked over to where Blaire was bound up tight to his old office chair and then to Miles and Riley – receiving looks of encouragement. Miles didn't order him to drink it and Riley suspected this was by design – giving Sebastian his first honest to go choice in the path his own life took. Although there was a clear desire to speak those kindly words the longer Sebastian failed to make the right choice.

Then finally Sebastian tipped his head back and downed the liquid.

He'd expected it to burn, thought the taste would be absolutely horrific. What he found instead was that besides the strange bubbles and metallic tang it all went down smoothly. Almost like a slug crawling its way down his throat, that thought nearly had him vomiting it all back up anyway, but Sebastian merely squeezed his eyes shut and forced the rest of the gooey substance down the back of his throat. Coughing and shuddering once it was all down.

As Sebastian gagged on the lingering sensation of the fluid clinging to the walls of his throat, Martin was already moving and talking again. Saying something to Billy as Sebastian's world came in and out of focus in sharp bursts of red. Not entirely unlike what he'd seen when Blaire had commanded his hear to stop beating and it would occasional shudder to a near halt.

Then there were warm hands on his skin and for a moment Sebastian was only mildly surprised rather than alarmed. It almost felt nice. Nothing more than gentle warmth against his skin. But then what had been warm became hot and hot to scorching.

In seconds flat Sebastian was howling as the stench of burning flesh assaulted him along with the blinding agony that raced up his arms. He was being burnt, both his wrists held tightly by the white-hot hands that seared away his flesh. All the while there was Martin's voice, comforting him, assuring him it had to be done, that once it was over he'd feel better.

He'd be free.

Beyond that there were other voices, one that was distinctly Miles cursing and demanding to know what the hell was going on. Martin's voice turned to pacify those others while the pain continued.

But it wasn't until Billy spoke directly to him that Sebastian truly comprehended the words passing by him. "It will hurt for only a moment longer." Billy's not quite human voice told him quietly. It was so distorted and unnatural that for a confused second Sebastian thought it was all in his head. "Better this than chains."

His wrist, Sebastian realised with a distant sense of dread. Billy was burning his wrists.

 _The_ _chains_ …

The fight dropped out of his body and while Sebastian still produced agonized whines and moans, he no longer pulled against Billy's seemingly immovable hands. Instead he hunched forward, limp under his brother's hands and waited for the pain to pass. He'd been hurt before. Countless times, he knew pain…if he just let it happen it would be no less horrible but it would end.

All things end with time and so too did the pain.

When it did stop his brother's hands turned cool against his throbbing wrists and Sebastian felt Billy carefully changing from incinerate to old man winter. He might have told Billy that it was a bad idea to go so cold so fast but it felt too good to complain besides – his body would surely deal with it as it had countless other abuses.

While he was still limp in Billy's arms, Riley approached them both, dropping quickly to his knees to cup Sebastian's face. He gently angled Sebastian's face side to side, looking to see if he was still lucid. In answer Sebastian pulled away, coherent enough to find Riley's actions irritation. "Jesus Billy…" Riley muttered as he lifted Sebastian's scorched wrists up gently. They were angry and inflamed, no doubt they'd leave horrendous burns even after he was fully healed – but there was no way to see the tattoos that had once been chained around his skin.

It may have been too much, overkill but Sebastian could not help but feel grateful to see them essentially wiped clean off his body. They might be there under the scarring, but Sebastian need not look at them so long as he never returned to another vita-chamber.

Chuckling quietly Riley smiled, eyes overflowing with relief as he watched Sebastian come back around to himself. Over his shoulder Miles called out. "You want to test it, kiddo?" He could see frustration returning to Riley's face, barking back something about giving them a moment of rest but Sebastian nodded mutely.

Better to know now if this small, rapidly growing sense of hope was only going to hurt him. "Would you kindly pinch your brother's face?" Riley immediately made a sound of protest, whipping around to scowl back at Miles as the man in question grinned impishly.

But Sebastian didn't move. Barely even felt the need to move. He…just didn't.

It didn't work.

For a second time Sebastian felt the weight of freedom fall onto him and he let out a near hysterical laugh as it did. Billy's arms tightened around him as an answer to that shaky breath of laughter and Sebastian's fingers came up to clutch the hugging arms tightly, ignoring the aching of his wrists as best he could.

He was free. Well and truly free.

In front of him Riley too laughed. Just as disbelieving and relieved. This time when Riley reached forward he gathered both brother's into his arm, the drill carefully avoiding contact with this skin. But with his one human arm Riley was crushing both his brothers into a tight hug. Whatever reservations he'd had about touching Billy flying far from his mind in that moment of happiness.

Sebastian for his part fell into the embrace, still laughing even as tears began to bud at the corners of his eyes. He was so happy that for a moment he was sure his body would fail him, unable to process the overwhelming emotion. He'd never been so happy before, they'd not been built to feel happiness, or love.

But that was the only thing passing between the three brothers in that moment.

Even Billy who seemed more confused by this display of affection gradually settled into it. He'd never been held like this, not even his father had held him like this and through all of his conditioning, through all the madness and fear and anger – Billy found he actually could still feel something more human.

As the moment passed between the siblings, Miles found himself smiling as he leant back against the wall and watched. His hand lingered at the handle of his gun, just daring Martin to do something to take this away from the three of them. But thankfully the mad priest stayed well back, looking pleased to see his angels back with their god.

By his side the little sister watched, a gleeful smile on her face as she bounced up and down on the balls of her feet. Humming something about angels and brothers. For all the different layers of hell that Rapture was, for those few seconds Miles thought that they could be happy. They were so close to freedom now, getting back to the surface was the final step.

Miles chuckled under his breath, smiling around his cigarette as he lit it up. "He thinks this is freedom?" He muttered quietly to himself. "Just wait till he takes his first breath of fresh air." These boys would see the surface again if that was the last thing Miles ever did.

The surface. _That_ was true freedom.

…

…


	11. Outshock7

But they could not stay here.

With everything he knew now Sebastian was a little surprised that it was Miles who first flew into action. The man was a kind of drive about his excited movements that Sebastian did not think he'd ever be able to replicate. There was some manic light in his eyes as he began to drag things out of dark corners of storage.

Second to finally break from the reprieve of simple relief at them all being alive was Lisa. This Sebastian expected and once the resident mother hen began working, everyone fell into line. She managed to curb Miles's excitement enough to stop him from hurting himself further. His hands were still extraordinarily tender and on occasion he forgot that there was a new dynamic to having only eight fingers left.

However for every time he fumbled, or hit a tender nerve under the stitched up skin of his knuckle, Riley was unfailing there to assist him. If he stumbled, Riley righted him before he could hit the ground, steadied him when a wave of pain took the balance out from under him. He tempered Miles's stubbornness as best he could, kept him in line when Lisa's stern gaze was turned to other jobs and could not remain fixed on Miles to assure he did nothing too extraneous.

Miles was not a fan of the treatment, his pride took a hit and so he turned to Riley more often than not with a snarl. But usually his eye would catch Riley's still casted up arm and his complaints usually fell silent. Only to be reassured that he healed quickly, that never seemed to make it better.

Waylon was the last of the group to join the preparations, when he did he went about them with the same ferocity was Miles had. Despite the fear of death looming over all their heads, Waylon was more than happy to bury himself elbow deep in his work. He'd gotten in trouble more than once for accidentally staining one of the girl's dresses or getting oil in their hair when he forgot how dirty his work was.

Then there was Sebastian. Stationary.

"Hey, kid you 'right there?" He jumped upon hearing Miles's voice. Not realising the Irishman had been trying to get his attention for the past four minutes and finally decided the only reasonable path to take was to came and rap on his noggin with his knuckles. It certainly worked.

But now he had a startled, flesh and blood killing machine, looking up at him like some lost child that just had his head pulled out of the clouds. Miles gave Sebastian a disconcerted stare, one eyebrow lofted as he watched the dazed look slowly wash out of the kid's eyes as he returned to the world of the living.

Once he registered what Miles had said and that it was in fact Miles standing in front of him, hand still held over his head awaiting to deliver another harsh knocking if Sebastian failed to wake back up. "O-Oh!" He stuttered, turning red in the face as he realised how far away he'd been. "Sorry, Mr. Upshur. I-"

" _Urg_." Miles's expression twisted up in disgust at the formality. The kid was far too tightly wound. "Drop the Mr, boyo." He saw Sebastian flinch and amended his wording accordingly. "Kiddo. It's just ol' Miles here with ya now. Don't be too formal on me, we're all friends here." He was tried very hard to get the tenseness to ease from the kid's shoulders but the smile he held onto was no less strained.

"Is it the voice?" Miles asked flatly, not sure how to feel about that. Part of him was still livid with Blaire for bastardising his own voice to this extent, but there was an undeniable sense of guilt. It wasn't his fault Blaire was a monster, but it had still been his voice that kept the kid jumping at every little shadow. It was hard for that not to effect a man.

"Oh, no. No…" Sebastian quickly tried to reassure him, panic flashing across his face. The most real and present emotion he'd shown since they'd arrived safely home. "It's just…sorry. Just thinking."

Miles hummed, peering at Sebastian from the corner of his eyes. Scrutinizing his distant eyes with a frown. Glancing out at the safe house that had been turned upside down in the past few hours Miles was satisfied that he wasn't immediately needed for the time being and at least for a few minutes his shadow had vanished. Riley would return eventually, hanging closer than he strictly had to. He appreciated the concern, honestly he did, but there was such a thing as too much good will and Riley was going to drown him in it.

For the most part Sebastian's inactivity that day had been allowed due to his current condition. Lisa had startled when discovering how far reaching the damage actually was, Sebastian held it together alarmingly well but she'd been resetting some of his bones no more than six hours earlier. And now there he sat, looking better put together than Miles would feel for at least another fortnight. The boy's healing factor was nothing short of heartbreakingly unfair advantage.

Were Miles not as well versed in the horrors they suffered to gain that ability he might have even been jealous. But unfortunately he did know, a little too well.

Sighing heavily Miles took a moment to light up a cigarette. He noticed Sebastian cringed away when he did, some unasked question lingering on his face before the cigarette was properly lit up and then he turned away. "Make you uncomfortable?" Miles ventured only to be answered with a mute shake of the kid's head. "I can put it out…?" He offered but again Sebastian shook his head and for as weary Miles was of upsetting the boy, he needed this smoke just as badly.

Gradually he settled down next to Sebastian, taking a long inward drag of smoke before releasing and equally lengthy sigh of smoke into the air. "So kid." He began slowly. "Tell me, where are you?"

"I'm sorry?"

Politeness, Miles scoffed when he heard it and wondered who had taught that into him. Riley had sure as shit never been polite. Scared out of his wits and terrified of punishment if he stepped out of line maybe, but certainly not polite once those fears were removed. And Miles didn't exactly see Trager as a manners type of guy.

Hunching forward to rest his elbows on his knees Miles once again regarded the quiet boy next to him. "You've been awful quiet since we got in, Seb." Something in the blonde seemed to shift upon hearing the nickname and Miles took this as a good sign. Meant he was lucid enough to hear him properly. "Don't get me wrong, you haven't done anything wrong but…well you haven't really _done anything_."

Then in what Miles could only think of as typical Sinclair brother fashion, Sebastian avoided the subject by enquiring after the other. "How is Riley?" He asked quietly. "He…he hasn't stopped working since Ma—Since _Lisa_ said he could walk around."

He indulged the kid's piss poor attempts to dodge the initial question for the time being. "Working helps." Miles supplied easily. "Being excited about the surface doesn't hurt either." He added more slyly. "Why aren't you excited?"

"I am!" Came the immediate violent jump or alarm and defensive words.

Miles only stared at Sebastian, watching as his flimsy denial cracked with every passing second of silence.

Slowly his definite expression crumbled when met with Miles's stony stare. "I…I am…" He mumbled, fingers rubbing the back of his neck as he looked for some kind of argument to make. "Of course I am…it's just…" The kid fell silent at words momentarily failed him but then he dragged in a sharp hiss of air as though he was preparing to endure some kind of great pain. "It's just it doesn't feel real." He admits miserably. "The surface, freedom, all this…it feels like I'm going to wake up and be right back where I was before."

There was more he wasn't saying. Miles fancied himself something of a Sinclair friggin whisperer after dragging Riley right out of his own personal hell. He'd watched Riley build himself a new reality, watched the kid grow out of the only shell he knew and become a honest to god person. Sebastian was just taking his baby steps and so Miles helped him along. "You know, your big brother was just like you when I found him." Sebastian perked up at the mention of his brother, those two always did and Miles went on smugly. "Didn't know up from down that one, can't tell you the number of times he just…left us. Not physically mind you, but sometimes he just wasn't all there."

Another flinch and Miles smiled apologetically. "Yeah, sorry. Only just learnt about that one, I'll watch my tongue."

"N-No." Sebastian muttered, fidgeting with his hands. The sight sent a little pang of jealousy through Miles and he resisted the urge to look at his own set. "It's not bad. It's okay to say that. I just didn't know it meant anything until recently. Please, go on."

"Well you're already far more stable than Riles was when he came to us. You're doing good kid. But it'll still take time to move on from all that. Just take each day as it comes…once you see the sun you'll feel a hundred times better I guarantee."

After a moment of silence passed Sebastian mustered up the courage to ask what he wanted to know. He looked like an adult but he was still just a nervous kid under that face. "My brother, what was it like? I mean…when you found him, _how_ did you find him?"

Miles let out a low whistle. "Really going back in my memory archives for that one, kiddo." He murmured, pulling in another puff of smoke. "Ah, it's a bit of a long story…but I suppose there's nothing I can do without getting Lisa's stink eye or Riley's concern so I'll tell ya."

…

…

The monsters den.

That's what it was called among the boys. Whispers they kept between themselves, when they thought Atlas couldn't hear them. It was perhaps a positive that they still thought there was anywhere Atlas wouldn't catch wind of their whispering. They did not hold out much hope that word would not eventually reach Murkoff or Blaire given enough time. It was not trust, but it was not fear either and for now that was enough.

The labs inside of the Little Wonders Educational Facility were a labyrinth, easy to get turned around inside of, no place for children. The shell of the experimental lab was sunny. Pictures of smiling boys and girls, toys and sweets plastered to every wall. But step beyond the first set of security coded doors and find the horrors that lay underneath.

Sterile, cold, heartless, the whole place reeked of all that and more. People went through those doors – good and bad – not a single one of them came back out. It was here that the creatures were made, bodies pushed into metal suits, humanity ripped right out of them while they screamed. There was no need for an imaginative mind to conjure up the things that were done here – it was all neatly documented by people who didn't care beyond the profit.

The boys were right to call this the monsters den.

And they'd blown a hole right at the mouth of the damn thing.

The ground rumbled under their feet as the first of the rigged explosives went. The little techie that had knocked the things up had been very precise with his instructions. Had to be careful – bombs in Rapture could spell the end of them all if they sprung too great a leak. But they were a risk well worth taking when they blasted right on through the security coded doors. Park might be able to blind the drones and turrets to Atlas and his men for a time, but he could not open the doors for them as well. It was one or the other and Atlas made the call. After all, doors could be forced open but a storm of bullets was sure to take a few good men with them.

Four entrances into the place, four groups and not nearly enough men to feel secure in any given one. Slipping the comforting weight of his shotgun down off his shoulders Atlas glanced over his shoulder at the five men lingering at his back. Expressions ranging from nervous to gleeful – they had the odd fire bug or two among their ranks. The fireworks were likely to spark their excitement. Fine, let them have that moment of joy – from here on in it got dirty again.

"Park's given us an opening. We're not about to waste it." Atlas called over the last of the explosions. "Get everything we can carry – burn the rest. Lancer, I want your team to have those charges set in twenty minutes, the rest of you focus on what you came to get. Can't be affording any distractions. Don't be wasting bullets, one shot clean between the eyes to deal with anyone inside. But if anyone gets eyes on the man o' the hour you send word my way." There were some people so vile that even a bullet wouldn't suffice as proper execution. Trager fit that bill.

As the smoke cleared Atlas gave the order and in his boys went. The first fire of a gun set the tone for dozens more. Atlas did not expect the scientists inside to be much of an issue. However this property was still one of Blaire's – which meant it wouldn't just be men of science behind those walls.

The first splicer nearly took Atlas's head off, dropping down from the ceiling a near step away from its target. The hook came flying past his face and if he was surprised it did nothing to slow the revolution leader. The first shotgun shell passed through the splicer's shoulder. Separating its willowy limb from the rest of its contorted body with a spray of blood and inhuman shriek. The second exploded against the left side of the things face, sending what was left of its ADAM influenced mind painting the wall opposite it.

"Eyes on the ceiling, lads!" Atlas instructed through the radio. He knew they couldn't keep up a perfect defense, but they had one another and more smarts than any splicer in the city. They could do it.

Already he was estimating the body count.

"The girls!" Came Lisa Park's harsh bark across the radio, fierce as she snarled the reminder.

Atlas jerked to a halt, casting a glare down to the radio strapped to his hip. He motioned for the boys to go ahead, deeper into the labyrinth out ahead of them while he snatched the device up. "Aye, we'll get your brats out." They all had their individual assignments; Atlas had only two other boys on the same job as himself. It pained him but he knew only those two could be trusted with those little genetic freaks. "A bit of guidance if you'd be so kind." He growled into the radio, waiting for Park to tell him the way to those monsters.

They couldn't be considered girls anymore. Couldn't be looked at like they were children. Or it would break a kind man's heart.

Looking around he took note of the various pathways. He knew the daddies were made here, Park had laid it all out of them – where they needed to hit, what supplied could be found in what rooms. She knew the place inside out, killed her fair share of people behind these walls. Had she not been so bleeding helpful Atlas might have been inclined to return the favour.

Unfortunately the only path she'd adamantly refused to map out was the way to those children. He'd argued with Park, shouted at her about how she of all people had no right to be pointing fingers. Making accusations. But begrudgingly he knew she was right, Atlas trusted most of his men – but the little sisters presented a dangerous temptation when unguarded. All that ADAM and so easy to just take it…Park had been right to withhold the information from them.

It would only be the three of them entering the area where the sisters were kept. Atlas had chosen to bring Joyce Reina and Pete Carlson for two very different reasons. Joyce was a bleeding heart, still looked at little sisters like they were just children. Still wanted to do whatever she could to save them – she was picked for that reason above all else. She could be trusted not to let any harm come to the girls. Pete on the other hand was all muscle. The kind Atlas needed to make sure that no harm came to _them_. But…well Atlas didn't particularly find his temperament agreeable at the best of times. But Atlas had been told they'd need someone with Shock Jockey for the job and Pete was the only one that had that particular plasmid and enough sanity left to not go dry mouthed at the sight of those little monsters.

"You'll need to move to the bottom floor. There you'll find a heavy reinforced door. Once you reach it you'll be given access."

Already following the instructions Atlas directed Pete and Joyce ahead of him, still keeping an ear out for Lisa's voice as they edged around currently friendly turrets. So long as those lights stayed green Waylon was watching out for them and they weren't about to be shot to a thousand pieces.

"Boss. We're all good down here." Joyce called out to him, signaling the coast was clear of enemies and the doors just up ahead.

"I keep telling you not to call me that, lass." He groused, not expecting this reminder to do the trick either. Joyce smiled slightly; apologetic but just as guilty knowing she'd not drop the habit. He supposed it was okay, when Joyce called him it sounded affectionate, not subservient. Still he'd rather just be Atlas. They were fighting together, not under him. He was out here too, just like the rest of them. Joining the pair out front the doors Atlas scowled at the sturdy metal. Likely it wouldn't have given away like the outer doors had under an explosion. Even if it had, Lisa never would have allowed it, too close to those monsters for her liking.

True to her word the moment he joined them at the door, the security camera up in the corner swiveled in his direction. Glancing to it, Atlas gave a small smirk and salute, expecting Waylon to be watching on the other end. The man was quite the technical genius – likely Murkoff was dearly missing having him coding up all their bots and gadgets.

A moment later the red light above the doors stuttered and blinked out. Returning a friendly green when it shone back into life. Hissing the doors unlocked and slid open.

He was unsure as to why he'd been bracing. As though expecting to see something even viler than the rest of the labs. In a way it was worse, stretching out ahead of them were more doors. There were three rows of these pathways and each pathway had six doors. Four lined against every wall and each one of them had a latch. They all required that shock jockey and now Atlas understood the need for Pete and all that even they'd carted along.

"These your girls?" Atlas asked into the radio and was surprised when for the first time since meeting the woman, Lisa hesitated.

Then when she did speak, it was lower. Mournful. "Yes. Please get them out of there." He must have been going crazy, because for just a moment he felt something like a tug of sympathy. Thinking about those little girls, locked up in these boxes. Thinking about them being trapped down here without anyone to care about them…

"Pete, get those doors open. Joyce you'll be collecting the brats. Get them to one of them vents and out of our hair. Not a single one leaves any other way." Atlas might not be all sunshine and rainbows. But there was one thing that neither Murkoff nor Blaire could refute – he was a man who kept his end of the bargain.

Lisa wanted the monsters, he'd damn well get them to her. In return they were given access to Blaire pet scientist's lair and all the supplies that came with it. Honestly Atlas would have blown the place to bits just to see Blaire's day ruined. The tactical advantage was little more than a bonus in his mind.

"Atlas." He stopped on Lisa's voice. Not expecting her to speak again until the job was done. "One more request."

"I think you've used up the last of my good will, doctor." He replied coldly. The people she'd harmed would remember what she'd done, what she'd been apart of until the day they died and Atlas was not going to let her forget it either.

Another pause, this one just as remorseful as the first. But when she came back, she did so with an edge and a lure. "You want Trager do you not?" Damn the woman, she knew just what bait to set and just when to throw it. Worse still she knew when she had a bite even without Atlas saying so. "You will leave miss Reina to tend the girls, you will go alone to the furthermost room. The stairs ahead will take you there through the conditioning rooms. Once you get to the autopsy room, you'll find Trager's office. If Trager is in the building he will be there."

With a snarl of frustration Atlas turned to look at Pete and Joyce. The two had gotten the first door open and his heart twisted in that unpleasant way it always did when seeing a little sister. The child screamed and cried, not trusting the adults that came to fetch her. Joyce was speaking quietly to her, attempting to sooth the monster. Atlas nearly told her not to bother but when the girl's tears began to fade and she began to creep towards them, Atlas decided it was best to keep his trap shut on the matter. Whatever got the job done quicker.

"I'm going ahead." He announced much to both Pete and Joyce's surprise. "Take care o' the sisters. I'll be back once I take care of the good doctor."

"You reckon he's still around?" Pete asked, skeptical. Atlas sympathized but even if there was a slim chance Trager was around, he had to take it.

"Well I'm about to find out." Atlas took one more look at the two before deciding they'd manage just fine and taking off towards the furthermost staircase.

The conditioning rooms were about as pleasant as one could expect. Fortunately they were full of turrets, all of which glowed green and a fair few of which were smoking still with a pile of splicers littered around them. Atlas might not be sold on Lisa but he sure as hell marveled at Waylon's skills. Might not lose quite as many as he thought on this little mission with the code monkey around to watch their backs.

He tried not to look at the rooms too closely. Knowing it would only turn his stomach. He knew how the monsters were made. Had the misfortune of knowing in great detail in fact. Slugs in the lining of children's stomachs, skin grafted to meta exoskeletons – screaming. Always more screaming. Atlas had no desire to see the tools used to carry out those horrors and so he simply moved on.

Occasionally spotting someone not too spliced up, a scientist here and there. Some had the good sense to just accept their fate when they saw the barrel of Atlas's gun. Some of them knew the monsters they were and accepted this as punishment. Others had the poor taste to try fighting back or screaming about how they only worked on criminals. It didn't matter if the test subjects came from Persephone they might have claimed. But Atlas knew better. Good men died because of them. Because of their _science_.

Rapture, the place where morals bound no one. Atlas would be taking a closer look at those rules once Murkoff and Blaire went down.

Atlas had no desire to stop and look but once he set foot into the autopsy room, he couldn't take one more step. He stopped dead, staring into the nightmare laid out before him. He'd seen battlefields before, seen horrors and more blood than he cared to remember. But that had been the fight, where men knew the cost. This…this was nothing like that.

There were bodies still in there. Strapped down and left there once their usefulness was outlived. This room wasn't like the others, there was a wildness to the patterns of the blood splatters across the walls, a carelessness to the discarded bodied. Nothing about the autopsy room looked professional or even scientific. It was as though a child had been let loose into the room, leaving smears of paint everywhere they went with toys left broken and discarded in their wake.

This was…

"Trager's playhouse." Lisa's quiet voice uttered through the radio. Her voice jarred Atlas out of his stillness, only now taking notice of the camera fixed on him. Likely he hadn't been moving for some time, prompting the Park's concern.

Angered by his own lapse of strength Atlas forced his legs to carry him through the gory chamber. No amount of trying not to look would spare him from these sights, from the images his mind conjured up of the people that must have died here.

How many of those people had been children? Little girls that hadn't managed to bond with the slug, little girls that…

Again that painful twist in his chest.

Pushing it back down, Atlas continued forward, only stopping to occasionally pick up what few items of use he could find. He had just picked up a loose shotgun shell when a sound up ahead brought him back to full alert. There hadn't been a soul alive past the conditioning rooms so far, he'd almost become complacent. But he'd definitely hear someone up ahead, sounded like there was some kind of struggle.

Cautious Atlas began to creep forward only for the facility to suddenly rock under his feet. Distantly he heard the boom of Lancer's first charge going off. He had let time get away from him, they had very firm rules on how to conduct their raids and attacks. They stuck to the plan even if someone lagged behind – otherwise they stood to lose more lives. Atlas might have been the sort to frequently go over the time he set, they wouldn't be surprised but the distant explosion was a sign that it was time to make tracks.

Atlas reached for the door only for the entire thing to shudder violently as someone on the other side slammed against it. Startled Atlas retrieved his shotgun, aiming it at the door as another bang came from the other side. He nearly fired right then but it would be a waste of ammunition, his pause allowed the person on the other side more time. Time enough for Atlas to realise that the person pounding against the door couldn't be Trager. The man was insane, not suicidal and he certainly wasn't stupid enough to get trapped in his own office. Whoever it was in there, was trying to get out, desperately at that. One of the scientists perhaps.

It was a mistake of him to take that moment to prime his gun. The click it made as he slid the barrel back into place was loud enough that it carried through the door and abruptly the pounding stopped. A jerky, hesitant kind of halt followed by a beat of silence and then a different kind of movement. Further away, more frantic. The sound of someone desperately retreating deeper into the room. Convinced now that it must have been one of the scientists and if it couldn't be Trager they might just know where the sorry bastard was hiding. Atlas turned the shotgun down towards the lock on the door. He was infuriated when it didn't give. Of course not.

Instead he was forced to look at the security lock, he couldn't guess the combination. "A bit o' help, Park." He demanded. He expected some kind of witticism or mockery from Lisa but instead he was rewarded with an answer in a heart beat. In fact the woman sounded a little desperate.

"One-eight-six-five." Lisa told him and then followed the words with a hasty. "Quick, quick, you're running out of time. Your friends are nearly finished setting the final charges." But there was something in her voice that made Atlas think her urgency had nothing to do with those charges.

Regardless he punched in the code and was relieved when the light turned green, accepting the numbers. Trager's room was little more than an extension of the autopsy room and Atlas now understood why Lisa had said the word 'office' as though it were all some incredibly morbid joke. It was marginally less horrendous than the rest of the place, but only because it seemed he kept his personal dissection table clear of bodies.

Slowly Atlas entered the room, gun held at the ready as his eyes darted around quickly. He found no immediate sign of the person he expected to find. No splicer jumped out at him and no scientist rushed him in some desperate attempt to defend themselves. Instead the room was deathly still. It felt as though not a soul was alive inside.

But Atlas knew this wasn't the case and so he kept his guard up as he crept deeper inside, shutting the door behind him nearly on a whim. His fingers were just about to lift off the surface of the door when they met with a roughness he'd not expected. Taken off guard Atlas glanced back at the door and felt an ivy chill rush down his spine at the sight.

Littering the door were…scratch marks.

They started low, no higher than his knee and slowly climbed upwards. The further up they got, the deeper the gouges became until finally they were no longer scratches at all. Those were handprints left in the metal. There were so many that they overlapped, becoming barely recognizable, but it was there in the indents of the fingers that Atlas could make out the shape of a human hand.

"What the bleeding hell…?"

There was a sound. Atlas startled, grappled for his gun as he whipped around to locate the source of the noise. But the room remained just as empty as before. Beginning to feel as though he'd just stepped into a Houdini splicer's trap, Atlas nearly missed the only change in the room. From the corner of his eye he saw a piece of paper drift down to the ground, having slid off the desk as it was jostled. The source of the sound.

Without so much as taking a breath Atlas approached the far side of the room, eyes fixed on the desk. Now he was focused on it he could see it was actually moving every now and then, as though something was rattling it. His hands were clammy, heart beating wildly as he stood behind the desk, half expecting the final shoe to drop and a splicer to leap out at him.

It took every nerve he had to make the final movement. Whipping around to the front of the desk, shotgun pointed downwards the trigger inching back under his finger only to stop a second short of firing.

It was a kid.

Barely looking like he was into his early twenties, huddled under the desk that was only just big enough for him to cram into and staring up at Atlas with huge, terrified eyes. The pair remained frozen for a few seconds, both just looking at the other, trying to process what they were seeing.

No uniform, no lab coat, not even a blasted nametag. The kid didn't look like a worker at all; in fact he seemed to be wearing some kind of hospital gown. Atlas was puzzled, he hadn't seen anyone else dressed up like that, not even the corpses that were left to rot around the autopsy room, they'd all had their personal clothes on their person.

Then gradually Atlas's gaze dropped. One of the kid's arms was hooked around his knees in an attempt to curl into a tighter ball – the other arm was missing. In its place was a drill. That startled Atlas back a step, the hulking piece of metal sat harmlessly at the boy's side but Atlas didn't fancy testing his chances if it suddenly began to spin. Barefoot and dirty the boy was shivering, violently. The little tremors were what caused the desk to move slightly, he was shaking so hard that it was a wonder his teeth weren't rattling in his head.

There were bruises around the boy's wrists in perfect circles, there were identical bruises up higher around his arm and throat as well. As though something had rubbed the skin raw or been pulled too tightly around the kid's body. And there was blood. Lots of it. Atlas hadn't noticed immediately but he saw it now, caked around the boy's legs where his arm was pressed. It took a moment but he saw where the blood was coming from. Welling out from under the boy's broken nails.

Atlas opened his mouth to say something. He had no idea what he'd been about to say, didn't know what words would leave him had he managed to speak out loud. Rather than being able to speak, Atlas's words were drowned out by another explosion. This one closer, more violent. Their time was running out quickly.

He'd been a little taken off guard by the violent boom but it was the kid that really reacted. He screamed, the one arm he had coming up to cover his head. Even the drill lifted a bit but when it proved too heavy to hold up the boy buried his head into his knees, one hand clapped over his ear as he began to shiver again. Little sobs falling out of him.

Then he was speaking. A hurried babble of nonsense that meant nothing to Atlas. "I'm sorry." He said. "I'm sorry, so sorry. Whatever I did, I'm sorry. I swear I won't do it again. Tell Trager I'll be good. S-So he can come back now. Please I don't want to be alone anymore. Just…Just give me my brothers back. I-I'll be a good buddy. I won't be bad, I'll do whatever you want…please just….my brothers…" The words began to break apart as the boy cried harder, beginning to choke as he failed to take deep breaths.

Miserable and terrified the kid uttered one last thing. "If…they're dead. Please just kill me too. I don't want…to be alone."

What was he looking at? Atlas could only stare, the gun he'd had leveled for the kid's head dropping uselessly at his side.

 _What was he looking at?_

Slowly his gaze slipped over the room again. Taking in little things he'd passed over the first time. Tanks of bubbling liquid, things that looked like they'd once been attached to a human floating inside. The empty dissection table, loosened straps that could bruise. The desperate scratches in the door. A kid crying at his feet.

Trager's office.

The boy flinched and stilled as the unknown man took a knee in front of him. He waited, as if expecting to be hurt and Atlas watched him in silence for a while longer. They had so little time, and yet he spent some of it staring at the kid. Then slowly that kid lifted his tear-streaked face up off his knees to look at Atlas. Those eyes stared at him like nothing he'd ever seen before. Eyes like that…eyes that had never once seen the sun. Atlas's heart twisted again and it could not be pushed back this time.

Not little girls – just ADAM factories.

Not people – just splicers

Not fathers – just metal monsters.

Not a kid - just….

 _Just…._

"Hey there, boyo." Atlas murmured, the boy startling at the sound of his voice. "Want to get out of here?"

When he lifted his hand Atlas held no weapon and instead just held out his open palm to the kid. At first he recoiled, curling deeper into the flimsy shelter he'd found himself. But when no harm immediately came to him the boy apprehensively looked at Atlas's hand again, as though he'd never seen the gesture before. Atlas waited, patient as slowly the kid uncurled not yet brave enough to take that offered hand, but still staring at him.

Every little inch the boy took was a victory. Slowly his hand reached out towards Atlas's and when he finally placed his bruised, bleeding fingers into the older man's grasp – Atlas smiled. Something about the sight of that smile seemed to stun the kid who continued to stare speechless at Atlas. He offered up no resistance as he was slowly guided out of his defensive curl and closer to the stranger.

"Do you want to come with me?" This time the words were barely out of his mouth and the boy was surging forward.

Atlas nearly toppled over as the young man flew out from under the desk and into his arms, the one arm he had used to cling tightly to Atlas's shirt. He was crying again, heavier this time as he buried his head into the older man's shoulder. It took a moment for the situation to catch back up with Atlas who only thought to wrap his arms around the kid a few seconds after he'd been clung to.

Chuckling quietly he used that hold to help the kid back onto his feet. "I'll take that as a yes." The kid was not at all small once he was no longer curling into a tight ball. He held himself like a scared child but Atlas was fairly certain that even Pete would feel intimidated when faced with the wide set of the kid's shoulders.

Once he was up Atlas moved to let go only for the kid to nearly collapse back to the ground with a small sound of pain. "Hey, what's wrong with yo-" He looked down at the boy's legs and his stomach churned. The boy's legs were in worse shape than the rest of him. Battered all kinds of colours. Taking notice of Atlas's staring, the kid mumbled something about strength endurance and how he'd do better. The fear behind the kid's hushed promises of improvement turned the nausea Atlas was feeling back into anger.

"Enough of that. No more tests for you, boyo." Atlas carefully hooked the kid's arm around his shoulders to help support him just as the third and second last of the charges went off. Time was well and truly up. "Just lean on me, kid." He was god damn heavy, Atlas grunted when he first felt the weight of the kid. Well that made sense, he was built like a damn tank – seemed appropriate he weighed about the same.

Half walking, half dragging the kid back the way he'd come Atlas took notice of how suspiciously quiet Lisa had been and Atlas suspected he knew the reason why. He had a few choice words for that woman once he got out of here.

"Boss!" Joyce smiled when she saw him returning, looking just a bit panicked. He nearly apologized for making them wait so long but the kid on his shoulder was stirring and Joyce took notice of him a moment later. She'd ran to meet with them, slowing to a stop just a step or two ahead of Atlas as she peered at the kid, openly curious. "We're down to the last sister." She reported, keeping to work first, curiosity second.

"Sister…?" The kid mumbled the word, and when Atlas looked at him he saw the boy's eyebrows screwing together tightly. Something bothering him.

Joyce nodded, although she was hesitant to answer the nameless boy. "One more and they'll all be safe with Mrs Park. Pete is just getting the last door open-"

Everything slowed the moment a gun fired. Atlas saw Joyce's eyes widen for the brief second before a burst of red exploded from her shoulder, a bullet tearing through her body. Joyce jerked forward with the force of the blow before crumpling to the ground right at Atlas's feet. His mind raced to try and process what had happened, so sure they'd covered all potential risks.

Except he'd brought one in with them. "Sorry, Atlas." Pete muttered grimly as he leveled the gun he'd just used to take down Joyce at Atlas and the kid. "Really, I am…but Rapture is going to sink at this rate. Murkoff might not be the nicest bunch, but they sure as hell beat drowning. Just gotta weed out the competitions weapons. Wasn't sure you'd find it but…well you've never let us down before. Lost a heap of those little sisters but we'll make do with this."

Pete smiled faintly, expression remorseful but resolute. "Just want you to know it's not personal. I really do admire you, but I like living just that little bit more. It'll be clean, can give you that much." The gun fired and Atlas expected to feel its impact a moment later. He was shaken, able to feel the adrenaline rushing through his veins, making every nerve burn under his skin. Everything prickled, all hypersensitive in that moment and he suspected the bullet would hurt something fierce when it tore through his body.

Except it never touched him.

They heard the bang of the gun going off. Atlas swore he even saw the moment the bullet left the chamber, but then suddenly he didn't see anything at all. Just the shadow of something large placed in front of him. Staring wide eyed and still unable to understand what had happened, Atlas heard the gun hit something metallic. There was a beat of stillness and then the deafening thunder of a drill roaring into life.

It was only when he realised the weight of the kid was no longer on his shoulder that Atlas understood.

"The hell…" Pete got the low curse out but it was all he managed. To the man's credit he tried to adjust his aim, to remedy his mistake but he didn't get the chance. Atlas hadn't seen a human move as fast as the kid did, hadn't seen someone on broken legs move as proficiently as the boy did as he rushed Pete, drill tearing through the air before planting itself firmly between Pete's ribs.

Then the world turned red again, bones were snapping, Pete was screaming and Atlas just kept on staring. Then the kid jerked the drill free, leaving a fist sized hole inside of Pete who was likely dead on his feet. It wasn't enough for the kid who rammed the drill back in again. He repeated this motion, tearing the hole deeper and deeper into Pete's body long after he'd stopped twitching. More blood flew up onto the kids face as he pulled the drill free again and Atlas saw something that looked like a broken shard of Pete's spine coming with it. Clattering to the ground as the assault continued.

Finally it was too much for Atlas. "Boyo!" He shouted and watched as the boy's body came to a shuddering halt, as though uncertain as to if he wanted to listen to the voice calling him. "That's enough, he's down. You can stop now." _Please stop._ "He's not going to hurt anyone anymore, it's safe." _Put down the drill._

The time between the onslaught stopping and the kid's drill powering down seemed like an eternity. Part of Atlas expected that drill to be turned on them next. But then the sound cut out and the kid was looking around. "Your sister…" His eyes fell onto Joyce, which reminded Atlas that she might still be breathing. Dropping to his knees Atlas gingerly turned the girl over and was relieved when she hissed in pain. Pain was good, meant you weren't dead yet.

"S-Sorry Boss, I…" Joyce tried speaking and Atlas quickly told her to shut up, to focus on her breathing. Damn fool was going to waste time and energy trying to be apologetic for something that wasn't her bleeding fault.

She had her hand was pressed into her shoulder, blood welling up between her fingers too quickly. Atlas swore furiously under his breath, trying to make a bandage from his own shirt, anything to try and slow the flow of blood. All the while that kid was watching their frantic attempts to keep Joyce from bleeding out. "Your little sister is not healing…" He heard the kid muttering something along those lines under his breath, sounding confused. Atlas did not want to stop and think about how and why the kid thought Joyce was a…specifically _his_ little sister.

When he began to move, Atlas instinctively glanced up, not sure he trusted the kid not to decide they were next in line for the drill treatment. Instead he watched as he looked over each of the open doors to the little sisters rooms. Atlas could see his legs beginning to shake with the effort of staying upright but he didn't immediately drop despite no doubt being under a great deal of strain. Instead the kid looked towards the door that Pete was supposed to have opened before the traitorous bastard decided to take a shot at them.

The kid approached the door, peering at it as if in deep through before reaching out with his broken hand to tap at it. "Boyo, it's too strong." Atlas tried to explain but was shocked when a little tap came from the other side of the door. The little sister inside responding. He watched on in dumbfounded silence as a small exchange passed through the door and then it opened from the inside. The little sister happily trotting on out to the kid.

For the first time since meeting the kid, Atlas saw his face pull into a smile. Taking a knee in front of the girl he offered her a hand and Atlas recognized the pose as the same one he'd adopted when offering his hand to the unusual brat.

Then he made that _sound_.

A deep, reverberating rumble that set every hair on end. Even Joyce who had far greater concerns gave a shudder under Atlas's hands as the sound rolled over them. Then came the words and Atlas forgot how to have a coherent thought. "Sister." The kid rumbled to the girl. "The bad man hurt someone. Can you help?"

The little sister looked over at Joyce and Atlas before scrunching her face up. "But big brother!" She whined, tugging on the kid's hand demandingly. "She's going to be an angel."

Atlas felt a surge of disgust and white-hot anger. Usually it could be directed at the monsters but…he wasn't angry with the girl. He was angry with the man that put that slug into her body that made her think that way. Atlas hated the men that left a kid with bruises all over his body, blood leaking from under his nails in his frantic efforts to escape.

He hated certainly. But…he did not hate the monsters.

"Not this one." The kid murmured back in the chilling growl. "She's not ready yet, you have to help her so she become an angel when she's ready." Still wearing that gentle smile the kid rests his hand atop the pouting girls head. "Help me, sister?"

Still clearly not liking the idea the sister looked between her fabricated brother and the woman bleeding out under Atlas's desperate hands. "For you, brother." She relented and then turned to prance over to the pair. Atlas instinctively curled protectively around Joyce, wearing a snarl. But the little sister only huffed at him, wholly unthreatened by him with her brother so close.

"ADAM can keep your lights glowing." The sister hummed gleefully, hoisting up one of those wretched needles they carried around. "When their lights go out, Mr. B and I come to visit. But not yet, not an angel yet. One day." Atlas kept his hands over Joyce's wound as the girl injected the glowing red substance into her. Atlas cringed, knowing Joyce was no fan of ADAM or splicing, but if it saved her life…just this once.

He felt her body lurch under his hands, jerking as the ADAM rushed its way through her body. It would keep her heart beating, get her healing faster and keep her breathing until Atlas got her back to the base to be treated properly. He'd heard of this kind of emergency ADAM usage before. But it was hardly a done thing, it had to come straight from the source and it was a gross waste of the stuff. One needle of ADAM could make ten times the plasmids, but it took all of it to keep a life holding on. It wasn't good for business so people were usually allowed to die.

Once her spasms slowed to a stop Atlas hoisted Joyce up into his arms. He'd run her all the way back to the hideout if that's what it took, but her eyes were open and her breathing steadier now. In horrible pain and still bleeding badly – but stable.

Relief rushed through him as he cradled Joyce close to his chest. Losses were an unavoidable part of their fight, but he'd be damned if he didn't try to save every single one of them. Joyce was a good woman, he wasn't about to leave her twisting in the wind when things got a little rough.

Pleased the little sister smiled brightly up at them before rushing back to her brother. He rewarded her with another one of those unsettling rumbles that seemed to delight the little sister. He uttered something to her about being safe, about the vents, about calling for big brother whens he needed him and then the girl was taking herself off to one of those crawl holes the girls traveled through. Atlas wasn't sure if that one would find her way to Lisa or not. If she didn't he'd have hell to pay for it.

Atlas felt the kid's eyes on him through the whole thing. Watching and waiting for…something.

It wasn't until he properly looked into the boy's face that he saw what it was he wanted. He was waiting to know if he'd done a good job or not, a timidly hopeful look lingering about his fact. Looking for Atlas's approval, afraid of what would happen to him if he disapproved.

Once again Atlas was caught by the kid's eyes. That sad, scared look lingering about him with the look of a child that had never once seen the sun. Sighing Atlas let his anger and fear drain out of him.

"Don't know what the hell you are, kid." Atlas muttered dryly, knowing without a doubt that he must have lost his mind to be thinking what he was thinking. "But you looked out for us back there…you got a name, boyo?"

"They called me subject two." That wasn't satisfactory. His displeasure must have been practically screamed in his expression because the kid quickly changed his tune. "B-But sometimes I was called…Riley." The name was spoken so quietly that Atlas damn near missed it.

"Riley huh…?" Taking this information Atlas considered it for a moment. Somehow he thought that he would have found it unsettling for a creature like this to have such a human name. But it felt right in his head. "Well then Riley, you are going to come with me."

There was something unfair in the way those terrified, hurt eyes could suddenly warm and shine so earnestly. Atlas found himself smiling a little bit in answer to the light that kindled on the kid's face.

Now they just had to get out of here without losing anyone else. Atlas didn't fancy his chances carrying Joyce all the way to safety…actually he knew for a fact he wouldn't make it if it was him alone but it wasn't just him was it? "Going to be a shit show getting out of here." He announced to Riley as he approached the kid, already able to feel the nervous excitement that came before a run back to safety. "So can I trust you to watch my back, Riley?"

That same burning light shone on the kids face and there was no hesitation in his answer. "Always."

It was disarming how earnestly Riley spoke. A vow passing through in the one word and again Atlas found himself staring at the kid. It was those eyes that really got him, for as miserable, angry, scared and hurt as they were – there was an honesty to them that Atlas had never seen before.

For the first time in months Atlas nearly melted away to become Miles again and the only thing he could think when faced with those eyes was, _I'm going to show you the sun, kid._

…

…

Miles did not share many of his thoughts with Sebastian as he relayed the story. So many of them were hardly his own anymore, belonging to Atlas rather than Miles. He expected some kind of horror here and there, but the boy didn't seem able to even muster up surprise when hearing of his brother's condition and treatment.

Instead he took some time to quietly digest the story and then finally spoke for the first time since Miles began to tell the tale. "We are funny things aren't we?" He mused aloud, smiling miserably as his eyes stayed fixed on the murky ground at his feet. "Claw ourselves bloody trying to get away…but come crawling back the moment there's some distance."

There was a protest forming on Miles's tongue but there it died when he thought about Riley's reactions to Trager. How quickly all that progress could be leveled to the foundations blocks the moment he so much as set eyes on the man that created him. "Better he rots." Miles final grit out, anger that had nothing to do with his missing fingers boiling under the words. "Better he never speak again."

The noncommittal hum he gets in return for the heat from Sebastian is a little concerning but when Miles glances his way again Sebastian is moving again. For the first time since he stopped.

Standing the young man dusted off his knees and took a step forward, looking as though he intended to join with the final preparations. Only to pause and glance back at Miles, wearing a beaming smile that honestly had no right to exist at the bottom of the ocean.

"I'm glad my brother met someone like you when he did." He announced as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Thank you for looking after him."

And despite having watched Riley claw himself out of his shell, Miles didn't call Sebastian back when he turned away still sporting a smile that was no doubt just as fake as Riley's first few had been. He knew the kid wasn't really ready to go anywhere, but even though he could clearly see that, Miles didn't attempt to stop Sebastian.

Instead he stood back, watched as the blonde rushed on up to his brother, beginning to chatter to him about something. Asking to be helpful no doubt. He watched as Riley relaxed seeing his brother up and about again all the while wondering what he'd do when it turned out he wasn't ready yet.

Likely he wouldn't be until he had the chance to deal with that one last loose end. They'd have to regardless because they weren't going anywhere without that genetic key and the term ' _prying it from their cold dead fingers,'_ did seem appropriate.

And it's Atlas that smirks as he snubs out the dead cigarette, eyes lingering on the pair of brothers. "Back into the monster's den I suppose."

…

…

Riley, for all of his gifts, was not exactly the epitome of subtly or perceptiveness when it came to emotions.

Case in point, he failed to notice anything out of the ordinary in himself and his brother while everyone else around him had already taken note and adjusted accordingly to this new pattern of behavior.

Riley was baffled when Waylon came to check on him seemingly every half hour, taking time out of the day when he should have been focused on nothing else besides escape. Even more unsettling was Lisa's hovering. She wasn't overtly keeping an eye on him but once Riley took notice of her lingering he couldn't seem to find a spare moment where she wasn't within ear or eye shot.

Confused by this shift in attitude towards him Riley eventually felt ready to ask his brother about it. Although even that small conversation seemed like a colossal waste of time and energy when they were so close to the surface.

However when he approached Sebastian and put forward the simple question of if he had noticed any similar trends in their companions, he was met with a silence he didn't know how to process.

Sebastian gave him a curious look, eyes sweeping over his figure as though he was confused as to why Riley could not see what everyone else was seeing. Then the brother that was his junior adopted a parental role in his smile and the hand against Riley's shoulder. "Maybe you should rest, Riley." He suggested gently. "We won't be heading out for at least another hour, perhaps you should use that time to sleep?"

"But I'm not tired." The automatic reply rolled out of his mouth before Riley could check it and found the words to sound incredibly immature. "I'm fine."

Upon hearing those words Sebastian's expression twisted unpleasantly and the hand at Riley's shoulder twitched, tightening a moment later. "Are you." The words were delivered in such a tone that for a moment Riley was at a complete loss. Not quite a question, but not a statement either, something caught between the two. Sebastian's eyes were boring tiny holes into him and Riley wasn't sure why he suddenly felt so uneasy. Never before had he felt the urge to _hide_ from his brother. Even as they exchanged blows and very nearly killed each other no more than a day earlier he'd never felt the slightest twinge of unease. But now he wanted nothing more than to remove himself from Sebastian's line of sight.

He recognized it a moment too late as shame. "I'm fine." Riley bit out again, harsher than he intended to be. This time he heard the denial in his own voice. " _I am_." Riley hissed, breaking away from Sebastian a second later. His brother did not try to hold him there but Riley could feel those blue eyes following him as he left.

He'd made it no more than two steps into the next room before Miles's voice accosted him.

"I take it that was just some run of the mill brotherly squabbling?"

Surprised Riley's stride stuttered to a stop. "Does Waylon know you're smoking?" He asked, eyeing the dying cigarette in Miles's hand. The smell of the thing was one of Riley's little guilty pleasures. Waylon was adamant that he never smoke and that Miles keep the habit restricted to outside the hideout or in his own room. As such Riley had kept away from them, but there was something appealing about the scent and Riley couldn't help but stare at it with some longing as Miles took another drag.

The man offered up a noncommittal shrug, likely thinking he could push his luck when they were so close to leaving the little hideout behind. Unhurried Miles took his time enjoying that small comfort before finally rolling his gaze over to Riley. Like the others there was some shift in behaviour but Riley wasn't entirely sure what to place Miles's new approach to him as. He sized Riley up in silence for a few more seconds before finally chuckling, releasing a puff of smoke in the process. "Well boyo." He began with a lazy smirk spreading across his face. "You look a little stir crazy there, how 'bout you and I make tracks, hm?"

His immediate response to this proposal was suspicion which likely spoke volumes about how he thought of Miles. "Just the two of us?" He clarified, not at all comforted by the gleam in Miles's eyes. "We're supposed to wait for Lisa to give us the go ahead." He reminded stiffly.

The plan they'd thrown together in the past twenty-four hours, while flimsy at best was at least clear about a few things. They would not be splitting up where it could be helped and both Sebastian and Riley were to be with them at all times. They were their protection primarily, given the pair of them were made to kill and protect in equal measure and now had their own minds to rule their actions.

Miles was proposing they leave before Lisa said they could move. Proposing they go without Sebastian and admittedly Riley was tempted. He was dearly tempted to say yes and go work out a bit of his pent up energy, but at the same time he was unsure as to why _Miles_ wanted to go and that was cause of concern.

When he moved, he did so with all the grace and certainty of a shark. Sliding his back upright on the wall he'd been lounging against before skimming around Riley's side, likely perfectly aware of how the younger man's eyes followed him uncertainly. Miles came to a halt in front of Riley, his torso slightly lowered so he could peer up at the unfairly large young man with a wicked smirk.

"Well the way I see it, boyo," He began, mischief positively dripping off his tongue. "This is our last few hours in hell and I think you in particular might have a debt to settle with the devil. Would be an awful shame if you didn't get the chance, wouldn't you say?"

Riley wanted to recoil. Wanted to tell Miles it was stupid what he was suggesting. But there was the offer of revenge and Riley was never above that kind of bloody retribution. His hesitation was not lost on Miles who quickly followed up his initial pitch with an added reasoning to bring Riley around to the idea. "Think about it, you and I could waltz on up there. Only some splicers between you and that bastard up top. You knock him out of the way and your brother never needs to think about it again."

For a moment the mirthful tone dropped and Riley saw the offer for what it actually was. Miles was suggesting they go and kill Blaire before he had the chance to do any more damage. "Sebastian should…" Riley began but was silenced a second later when he saw Miles's eyes harden with that same knowing look that everyone had been giving _him_.

And Riley knew he didn't want…couldn't let Sebastian so much as see Blaire again.

"Fine." He grit out and once again Miles's expression broke into a beaming grin. Perhaps a little bit took excited about this small act of rebellion. He always had been the type. "We're going to get in so much trouble." Riley groused, knowing that Lisa would have their asses once they were found out, but he had decided that whatever disappointment she might feel it would be worth it.

Already waiting by the door, his gun propped against the frame, a fresh canister of oil and that same ready grin on his face, Miles dipped into a mock bow at his waist and gestured for Riley to take that first step out.

"After you, kid."

Sometimes Riley thought the real devil was Miles.

…

…

When Miles had spoken of a simple walk up to Blaire he had not exactly been wrong, shockingly. "Was expecting a bit more fanfare to be honest." Miles remarked as they passed through into Blaire's shell of a science company with only the slightest resistance. They'd made alarmingly good time and Riley had only killed perhaps seven splicers on the way there.

They'd expected an onslaught of enemies now that Blaire was behind the controls again and pushed into a corner to be sending everything he had at them, but Rapture had turned strangely quiet. Almost sullen and dead without the chatter of mad splicers to force out the silence. Riley knew this to be a blessing but there was something genuinely unsettling about the stillness. He never knew the city to be this quiet, this…lifeless.

Miles however took to it with nothing but pleasant surprise and rightfully so. He'd only fired the gun three times since they left and he had come across four times as much in the way of ammunition. Riley wished he could partake in Miles's comfort but he still felt uneasy. "Do you think they'd noticed we're gone yet?" He asked uncertainly as he stepped over a corpse that was already cold as ice. Not one he'd dealt with.

"Oh definitely." Miles chimed back, sounding far too pleased. "No doubt they'll be at our heels within the hour, better be snappy about this."

Never before had Riley heard Miles so nonchalant or eager about murder and given their track record that was genuinely impressive. Sighing under his breath Riley followed after his enthused companion.

He would have continued on unimpeded were it not for one minor hitch.

"Kid?" Miles called to him when he saw Riley had stopped walking. It took him a second to actually notice the young man had fallen a small distance behind him and wasn't moving anymore. Confused Miles took stock of Riley's blank expression and followed his gaze, finally finding the source of the problem.

Standing proud in all their decayed glory, were the letters of the Little Wonders Orphanage. "Ah." Miles articulately muttered. "Kid…this is the fastest…" He tried to rationalize to Riley but was cut short as the larger man moved past him at a sharp pace, surprising Miles.

"It's fine." He muttered sharply. "We're only passing through."

Miles watched Riley stalk towards the doors, frowning as the kid plowed on through. He wanted to tell Riley he didn't have to go in there if it was too painful, that they could find another way through but he knew this was the fastest way to get to Blaire and the genetic key. Without a word he followed Riley inside, his eyes now fixed firmly on the kid, watching for changes in his posture or expression.

The man himself might not understand why everyone's attitude towards him had shifted, he might had even chalked it up to some misplaced concern but Miles had a different name for it. It was fear.

He'd watched Riley lock up back at Martin's farce of a temple the moment Trager so much as glanced at him and he'd nearly watched the boy get his legs cut to shreds because he just…stopped. Just allowed his maker to do what he wanted. He'd seen lots of shitty, fucked up nightmares in Rapture, more than a couple being attributed to Riley's name. But he had never seen anything as terrifying as the sight of Riley, his unstoppable, unbreakable force just _give up._

Then in the same twenty-four hours he'd watched as Riley grappled with the death of the tormenter that had made him. Watched as that became something like grief. As if Trager deserved to be grieved.

And now he had brought Riley here.

Oh sure, he dressed up this little adventure as a way to protect Sebastian but for as much as Miles cared about the kid – Sebastian was not his primary focus. That was Riley. _His_ kid. Miles wouldn't say it but he was hoping that maybe doing this would somehow destroy whatever demons were still lingering inside of Riley's head, tying him to this place.

Blaire was Sebastian's tormentor but perhaps if Riley could destroy him, he'd destroy the ghost of Trager in the process. It was a shot in the dark but Miles was more than willing to take it.

"It…hasn't changed much."

He was broken from his thoughts by Riley's voice, not expecting him to speak at all. Miles frowned; eyes still trained on Riley's back as he noticed a slight hunch had formed. He was struggling.

"I thought it might be different." Riley continued uneasily. "It's been so long…"

The walls might be bloodier and more rotted than last they were here but the mockery of an orphanage hadn't really changed over the years. Miles regarded the labyrinth like halls with the same level of disgust as he had when they first came across them. To him it did not seem like all that long ago, but for Riley it was literally half his lifetime ago he'd been here.

There wasn't a shred of nostalgia inside of Miles at returning to this place.

"Kid." He began again, tone weary as he noted Riley's stiffened posture. "We can find another way."

"No!" The word came out too sharp, a near bark and Miles tensed instinctively. There was a little bit of a growl behind it, a bit of Riley's programing forcing its way back through and for all the love he had for the kid, there was never a lack of caution.

Seeming to realise how badly he'd snapped Riley mumbled a quick apology. "Let's just…keep going." He suggested and it was a mercy when Miles remained silent instead of pushing.

The rest of the trudge through the abandoned orphanage was made in silence but Miles eyes didn't stray from Riley's shoulders. He expected they'd pass through the facility in this fashion, no other blocks, but then Riley's footsteps faltered. Right in the place that Miles had hoped they wouldn't and he saw as the kid's gaze gradually crept off to the side, towards a familiar path.

Suddenly his grand plan to get Riley over this emotional block seemed like it was going to work against him. Because Riley wasn't moving forward, he was staring back. Staring back towards that room, that no doubt still had the scratches of a terrified child carved into its door.

"Don't." It was Miles that growled this time. "Riles, forget about it. This place is in the past."

Clearly the boy wasn't listening to him however because Riley still wasn't moving and instead had turned a little more towards that pathway. Miles intended to put a stop to that train of thought immediately, but then Riley went and walked right over all his commonsense by saying. "I need to see it." The words so quiet and vulnerable that they damn near tore a hole into Miles's chest. "If I see it…I can move on."

The pleading note didn't go unnoticed and Miles groaned as he felt the discussion slipping away from him. He couldn't fight the kid when he spoke like that, when he _looked_ at him like that. The picture of defenselessness he'd been the first time they met. Miles caved in an instant. "Fine." He groused, echoing Riley's earlier agreement to this idea in the first place. "But you only get fifteen minutes!" He tried to ignore the smile that was fighting its way onto Riley's face. "Anymore than that and we'll get Lisa on our ass I guarantee ya."

"Fifteen minutes." Riley dutifully nodded. "Got it."

Miles had never wanted to come back here, had done a good job making sure he didn't have to up until this point but he had no choice other than to follow after Riley as he took them back into the monster's den. It was interesting watching was Riley's stride became less and less self assured every step they took closer to Trager's old office. Before long he was practically creeping up on it, as if terrified just being back in that place might somehow rewind the clock and put him right back in the cage he'd once been in.

By the time he came to stand in front of the door, still left ajar from the last time they'd been there Riley finally stopped. Feet unable to carry him across the threshold and back into what had once been his cell.

Biting his tongue Miles had to exercise near inhuman restraint to keep from suggesting they just leave. Had they not seen enough already? The bodies were still here, the holes left from the explosives his men let off years prior still untended. There was no need to see the actual office when the evidence of the nightmare was all around them. But he didn't say a word; knowing Riley would likely never forgive him if he tried to take whatever the hell this was away from him.

Instead they stood there in crushing silence until Riley finally mustered up a heavy breath of air and said. "Ten minutes…you're wasting it." To himself before stepping inside. He stopped, cringing as though he expected to be struck down for stepping foot back into this palace but when no such punishment came he gradually straightened back up and began to look around.

He was no longer the child that had been kept here, barely even resembled that broken trembling thing now only sporting cracks from his experience. But he recognized it all. Perhaps it was a little smaller now that he was larger, but it remained mostly unchanged. Only the gathering of dust a tell that so much time had passed.

A morbid curiosity took root inside of Riley as he began to shift around the office. His fingers grazed over the leather straps that he distantly recalled being uncomfortable when holding him down. His eye sonly briefly settled on the back of the door. His fingers ached with the mere memory of his ill-fated escape attempts. Then finally Riley began to focus on something his child self had never bothered to focus on.

After all, when there were metal tables with the promise of syringes and doors that seemed almost breakable if only he tried hard enough, why would the young monster have looked to the papers and books that Trager kept stashed away. Now he was older and could properly make sense of the scribblings, Riley was more interested in what the man that made him had to say.

It occurred to him only now that he did not know what Trager would write. If it were not information or ideas of new tortures, what would the man have to say? Riley knew nothing else beyond his cruelties.

So he was not sure what to expect when he picked up an old box simply labeled – 'Don't Forget' and found a number of work journals and audio logs inside.

Riley could hear Miles shifting around by the door. Unwilling to leave but also uncomfortable still being here. He could imagine the man literally counting away the fifteen minutes he'd given and decided to use them as best he could.

The books were written in the usual penmanship he'd come to know from his keeper. There was a dreadfulness to it now, being able to see him writing and knowing what he had been writing were two very different things. What Trager had written down was mostly notes on the progress of his many experiments, Riley found his own name in there a number of times.

It did not hit him until he'd flicked through to the middle of one of the books that Trager referred to him by name, not number and the implications of this never hit him.

Knowing he'd not have enough time to read anything of value like this Riley briefly considered taking the notes with them. Perhaps they'd find more information about Billy and the Walrider, maybe even a way to help them. But carrying around boxes upon boxes of notes when they had to fight was not exactly his first choice. Instead he settled for turning to the audio logs and was unsurprised when he found a good number of them. Trager loved to talk and he certainly talked a lot faster than he could write. It likely helped that he enjoyed the sound of his own voice.

The names and notes of the recordings were not at all helpful in telling him if they were useful information or not.

Frowning Riley shuffled through them by date, trying to remember back to when he would have been taking notes on Billy and Sebastian. He went back the furthest he could first and started from there.

This was to be his first mistake of the day.

The first recording was entitled 'Selling The Dream.'

"This thing running? Ah hell…Murkoff's real keen on these little doodads ain't they? Ah, well. Let's see here. Perfect!" As the audio log went whirling into life Riley found himself rolling his eyes upon hearing Trager's voice come out of the thing. He apparently hadn't picked up the technology quickly. "Ya know when Murkoff came my way talking about this big grand idea for mind control and superpowers – well I was the good skeptical mind. But look what I've given them now, pheromones that influence their drugged up population of super powered idiots! Didn't think they could surprise me again after that, but what would you know, they've done it. The old crow Wernicke came to see me himself today. Doesn't like my work one bit, not one bit. Ha, imagine the look on his face when he finds out Murkoff asked me to make them a monster. Hope the old bastard has a heart attack."

Trager's voice hadn't been any different back then. Riley reflected on this as he went for the second recording, not finding anything particularly useful in the first except for a reminder of how frivolous Trager was. Like the first, this one had a vauge title as well. 'Halfway down the Rabit Hole'. This one began smoother than the last as Trager got right to it, no fiddling required. He might be slow on the uptake but he didn't make the same mistake twice. "First Murkoff and now Blaire…it'd be hilarious if it wasn't so irritating." He sounded irritated this time and Riley was a bit surprised by the tone. He so rarely took that tone around him. "Jer came to see me today, caught wind of this monster business or rather he planted the idea to begin with. Hard to tell with Jer – either way he's interested in one or two of his own. Got a few real specific demands too…now I'm not one to judge but he's placing al awful lot of his chips on this bet. Me thinks the old boy might be getting a tad desperate. Murkoff has been biting at his heels recently…shit buddy, what are you doing? He wants a monster and he wants them growing faster than Murkoff can catch him…well I've never been one to quit when things get tough. He'll get his pet beasty. The first one is well on the way, now for the other two."

They were getting warmer now, closer to the information he was looking for but Riley had to stomach through three more that were completely useless to him before finally finding something on Billy. 'The Shell' was it's title and Riley knew immediately it was the Walrider – Trager tried out all kinds of names for the thing before the Walrider stuck. This was one he had heard once of twice in the past. "The first one is done." Trager's voice announced warily, not exactly thrilled even as he delivered good news. "Subject one is in poor health honestly, too thin and weak to even be considered human. We've been splicing to all high hell with ADAM but his physical body structure isn't improving. Park damn near gave up on him too, but wouldn't ya know it, those slugs can do more than give you a fist full of lightening. We've had to infuse a kind of protective shell to the boy, Park's husband ended up doing a lot of the design for it, nano bots. Amazing, but not applicable for the other two. It makes Subject one extremely temperamental, difficult to handle. Fortunately he's still hardwired to respond to Murkoff's demands and even better than that – his old man. I just know Wernicke is going to have a heart attack this time." Briefly Trager's voice tapered off before coming back, more enthusiastic than before. "As for the other two…well subject two is awake now. He's a good a place to start as any."

The next audio nearly stopped Riley dead. Because it was about _him_.

'Notches on the Door', the title should have been warning enough but he'd still hit play and immediately Trager's gleeful tone came filtering through the device. Just as crisp and guiltless as it had been in Riley's memory. "Had to change the door." He began with brightly. "Little buddy is quite persistent, scratching at the damn thing all hours of the day to get out. Put quite a dint in the last one. Blaire is fuming about paying for it, but I think I more than earn the bonus and little buddy more than makes the money back."

Riley was nearly sick as he listened. Knowing he'd see the evidence of his later attempts if he just looked back at the door. He nearly turned it off but then Trager's voice stopped him, becoming quieter and less vicious as he went on, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. He did that on occasion. "He gets bigger every day. A bigger boy means we need a bigger door. Seen families do this with their own kids, ya know? Keep track of their growth with notches on the wall, well Riles does it all himself! Efficiency, that's what that is. The door is a bloody mess." Rick concluded flatly and Riley nearly stopped there. Nearly gave up going through the rest of the audio logs.

No one was making him do this. He didn't have to he could just leave. Miles would love that, he hadn't said anything to stop him from his search so far but Riley knew he must have hated this.

He could…

He didn't.

The recording 'Mr. Langin' started like the others. It seemed Trager had poor timing for these things, often halfway through a sentence by the time the recording kicked in. He never slowed down, not even for his own thoughts. Unfortunately this too was about Riely. "Subject two proves difficult in a way that one isn't. He's physically stronger, not a lot going on upstairs but he wasn't built for his smarts. But…well we might have overshot on the aggression side of things. Mr. Langin go a little too close to the little runt, subject three, and well… Not even a full year old and our little buddy has killed a man…ha might just make his papa proud of him at this rate."

This he did not remember. Not even a vague recollection and this scared Riley. Taking a life should not be something he forgot, certainly not his first, but he didn't know this Mr. Langin. Didn't remember the moment he killed the man. All he had was Trager's explanation and the belief that he had done it. Splicers were one thing, but Riley could not be sure if Langin deserved to die. "He's been screaming all to high hell since it happened, but I see what's happening here. He's bored. Just wants a little attention. Perfectly understandable. Not to worry, papa Trager is here for him. I'll give him very special attention." Even though he knew Trager was gone, Riley still shuddered upon hearing that promise. His attentions had been very thorough in Riley's memory.

He kept going. Next was a strange title, even by Trager's standards. 'A Tradition of Gifts', this too Riley vaguely recalled. "You know maybe I'm just a sentimental kind of guy." Trager began and Riley damn near snarled in protest at the mere thought only to remember that it was pointless to growl at ghosts. "But this time of year I can't help but get a little nostalgic. Remember when it used to snow topside over the holidays, by the fire with a good cup of cheer. A time…for _family_." As to why Rick said that word with so much resentment Riley couldn't be sure. But he was becoming increasingly aware of the fact that despite being created by this man, he knew very little about him. The cruelty he understood however and so he was very familiar with the way Trager's voice next twisted into a mockery of cheerfulness. "Been thinking, if he's going to be a big brother he's going to have to aspire to be just like his daddy so to speak. We're going to have to do something about that. A little limb transferal I reckon. It'll be a birthday gift! Like a little something for people you love. Like cats love mice and dogs love blood – or like the bullshit priest would say, how god loves everybody. He's big enough now that he won't outgrow it for a good long while. Can't be going drill shopping every year now can we?"

At his side Riley felt the cold heavy weight of the drill. Trager had been right after all. He had never outgrown it.

Four more audios Riley suffered through. He wasn't even looking for information anymore, he was simply…listening.

'Creative Extremes of Inhumanity' brought with it more than Trager's voice. There was a child's voice too, they were screaming. Riley recognized it as Sebastian's voice and even though he knew it was no longer happening he had the near overwhelming urge to ush to his brother's rescue. Instead all Sebastian got was Trager's sharp reproach.

"Sh, sh, sh! You're not putting that tongue to any use, runt. Going to have to program you with a gag order…now then. Updates, updates…Subject one has finally settled in with the Walrider, I do believe that's what we're calling it. Three is still screaming! But making good progress on his mental triggers and Riles is…goodness Riles must be going through his rebellious phase. The WYK command is practically a bust with him, although a few primary programs still work well enough. The reaffirmation phrase still calms him and the sanctuary protocol has been extensively tested, cheeky little thing he is. He's doing well otherwise, gets bigger every day. Soon he'll be a good head taller than most of the staff. Tomorrow he'll be going into some test scenarios with the little sisters, he seems to like them well enough. But I've been thinking, if he loses control like those god forsaken Alpha models when a sister dies he'll be useless to us. I can't let him lose his mind like that…so perhaps a trail run is in order. Sisters heal quick, we could stop ones heart long enough to assess his reaction. Mrs Park must not be made away for this test, I'll do it with him myself, just to assure his mind won't break when the little brat stops breathing. It's merely a necessity."

This Riley also did not remember. He did not try to recall the lost memory. Did not dare, scared of what he might find. Instead he tried to push all the disgust and anger down for the next audio log.

'First Paycheck' an almost normal name for this one, unfortunately it was also the most unusual of the bunch so far. Instead of manic glee or some cruel sneer, Trager's voice sounded…exhausted. "It…has been a long day. I'm not the type to complain but….it has been a _long_ day." Sighing heavily Trager must have slumped down next to the recorder, jostling it in the process before continuing in a weary voice. "Subject one got sent off this morning, on his way to scare the life out of Wernicke if all goes well. The project was a success, all hitches considered. Everything went well, got a nice fat paycheck and Murkoff off my back but...I've never seen him look at me like _that_ before. Didn't know what it was at first, Mrs. Park – the ever lovely woman she is – so kindly informed me that look was betrayal."

There was a long gap where Trager did not speak and Riley began to think that was all until final the fatigued man's voice returned. Quieter, harsher with every bitten out word. "I…when have I ever given him something to feel betrayed over? I never gave him _anything_ to believe in to begin with…? Shit, what will look like when two goes?"

Riley did not think. Did not stop to process the words, simply put on the next audio.

'Home Movies' it proudly declared and Riley heard Trager speaking to him when he turned it on. "Annnd, that's the last one." He announced, sounding pleased as he clapped his hands together. "Alright Riles, you're all done." There was no answering voice. "Now, now, don't give Papa Trager a hard time after he was so generous to-…oh. You're not looking so hot there little buddy. Hey…Riley? Don't pass out on me, there's still a lot for you to absorb. How about this. Up we go." Something shifted, Riley could heard the recorder being bumped as Trager did something. Moved him if Riley's fuzzy memory could be relied upon. Moving him so that he was more comfortable.

Yes, that's right, Riley did remember this. If he looked back as far as his memory would allow, this was the first.

Had…Trager had done something to him. Something to his memory, some kind of reset – the last one he'd said. Riley couldn't even muster up the energy to be enraged by Trager picking through his memories, if anything he was used to being out of control of his own thoughts and actions.

What truly bothered him was what Trager had removed.

No memories of sisters being tortured, or Billy taken away from them. Where there should have been painful memories there was…nothing. He'd taken them all.

Riley was hardly listening as Trager's voice went on. "There. Better now, right?" And Riley swore for a moment he could imagine Trager carding his boney fingers through his mess of black curls.

That memory was in fact a _memory_ wasn't it, not something he'd dreamed up as a child?

Riley had thought for the longest time that those moments when Trager would do this, let him rest and run his fingers through his hair, were hallucinations. But this audi matched. This was real, this happened. "Heh…well shit you're getting a bit big for this. Christ kid, when did you get so big? Not really my little buddy anymore are ya? Oh well, you grew up alright. Not what Blaire would have wanted, but hell two has that covered. Guess that means there's no one left to adopt you, huh? Bummer…but I _suppose_ that means you stay with me. I haven't give up on you just yet, little buddy. Oh, this thing is still going, let me just…"

Thankfully the next one Riley put on was information. Almost enough that it brought him back to the mission at hand. It would have too, were it not for the fact Trager sounded so strained. More emotional than Riley was used to hearing him. Fortunately it was anger mostly, that he knew how to handle. 'Not One of Them' was about Blaire.

"Blaire is long gone." Trager bit out sharply. The fact seeming to weigh heavily on him, although Riley wished it was as final as Trager made it sound. Of course Rick was never so easily fooled and followed up easily with, "As far as the books are concerned I don't do work for him no more. But Atlas…ah well, I suppose the books say I don't work for him either." Miles shifted at the doorway and Riley felt anger on his behalf. Blaire made a mockery of his name not long after this. "But here's the thing, the money keeps coming and I keep working. Those plasmids were a poison Jer would not touch in a hurry. Any other poison he'd gladly put in his body, but not ADAM, not until I make him some premium goods. Something that won't send him loopy like the rest of those splicers, something he can take without fear it'll kill him." And again Trager hesitated before muttering resignedly. "I wonder…does he know I already…? No. It doesn't matter. I'll get him those premium plasmids, even if I have to put them in his shallow grave."

There was only one left.

Riley set the 'Not One of Them' aside with the others he'd heard out and turned for the last. However when his fingers grazed the title, his heart stilled in his chest.

'Little Buddy'

It read so innocently but Riley knew better, anything that seemed innocent was the most heinous by default when dealing with Trager. More to the point he knew Trager's little nicknames. Buddy applied to pretty much anyone, but _little_ buddy? That was for them, for him.

This was the final recording, and Riley knew it was for him.

But for some reason his hands were moving. For some reason, despite his fear and hatred, Riley turned it on and waited for Trager to speak to him again. "Atlas hit the facility. Not surprised really, just fucking irritated. That revolutionary prick came into my place of work and just-! Shit. I wasn't even there at the time… _here_ at the time I suppose. I'm recording this from a nice lil' hide away Jer left me with…but I'll bring it back here. To this office." How had he—" I know you'll find it, Riles. Yeah, that's right kid – I know you're listening. How? Hah! Because I made you, I programed every little thought in that head of yours, you think I don't know exactly what you'd do the moment you saw this place again? Please Riles," Trager mocked with a snicker. ",some credit."

Riley startled and for a horrible second he felt as though Trager was not in fact dead. That he was right there, mocking him with every word, smirking at his surprise just like he always used to. But it was still just this little box, emitting Rick's voice from inside. "Dunno what the world will be like by the time you find this. Maybe we're all drowned – who knows. But…shit, little buddy I wasn't there. Should 'ave been, but I was getting Blaire his—well it doesn't matter. When I heard what happened, well I'd love to say I ran back but I didn't, had to look out for my own skin. Knew you'd be long gone…might be better this way. You remember what happened when that runt of a brother of yours got attached to a pet, yeah?" Despite himself Riely scowled at the box for that. Sebastian was never going to be able to have a pet after that experience.

Still Trager went on musing. "Maybe this is a better end to this attachment. You might not believe it but there's method to my madness. Don't want you to see what I become. These plasmids are already fucking with my head; so let me say this while I'm still _me_ enough to say it. Just remember me as the monster that made you, not the monster I'll make myself."

Something was wrong. Something had been wrong for a long time. Riley had never noticed, how could he? Everyday was a test of his sanity, every day was a new test of Trager's cruelty – how could a thing like Riley that only knew his cruelties be expected to see any change in Trager?

But in these recordings he heard it. He heard Rick speak in ways he never had in front of him before. Riley heard Rick breaking. He'd always been the one breaking them, to witness it happening to the man holding the hammer most days – it was unsettling in a way he could not properly place. Regardless he listened to Rick's thoughts, likely the final real thoughts he'd had before the ADMA set in for real and marked his eventual deterioration.

He was squeezing the audio log by the time Trager finally spoke the words. He had not even realised he was curling around the device until Trager spoke and Riley felt the vibrations of the sound against his chest, muffled but still legible.

"Riles, I'm _not_ sorry." Rick told him gently. "I am not sorry, because all I've done…resulted in you."

The audio log did not shatter when it slammed against the far wall despite all the force with which Riley threw it. At the doorway Miles let out an alarmed curse, not expecting the sudden explosion of sound and motion. Riley however was not satisfied with just the sound of the thing crashing against the wall and the moment he was up on his own two feet he was throwing the closest solid object – Trager's old desk – into the air. Still unsatisfied the drill fired into life, braking the rickety wooden structure in half and sending splinters flying.

Screaming Riley tossed its remains in the other direction, a broken leg piece nearly hitting Miles in the process. Self preservation won out of the man as he ducked around the other side of the door, hopefully out of reach of Riley's rage. Startled by the violent display Miles's mind began to rapidly fly over all the things he could do to get out of there without being skewered by Riley in a blind frenzy. His mind raked over escape routes, defensive actions and even a few programed triggers he knew still worked with Riley on a base level. What was it one of those recordings had said? Reaffirmation phrase, he'd bet his bottom, non-existent, dollar that was the phrase Sebastian had cringed upon hearing in their last conversation. The effects might not be the strongest but maybe enough to get Riley back into his own skull.

Except before he could even finished weighing up the pros and cons of using any triggers on Riley, the boy was shouting. Words, English, human speech, not the growls and snarls from his programing.

"You bastard!" Riley roared into the empty air. Shouting at Trager, at his ghost, at the mere idea of the man – who cares the result was the same. No response. "You fucking _bastard!_ "

Another piece of furniture went flying, a chair this time and it did break upon impact with the wall. "After all you put us through, after all you did to us, after everything you had me do, after you made us so broken! How _dare_ you!"

He was running out of thing to break but when Riley turned for the box he'd been pulling the audio logs from, drill raised to destroy that next, he came to a grinding halt. His shoulders slouched, shaking violently with the force of his anger and the effort of not continuing on his destructive path. "You had _my entire fucking_ _life_ to say this. You had every chance to just be a good person! Hell you could have just not been a bad person and that would have done! You had every fucking chance to be my-! Shit…shit… _shit_."

Miles deemed the danger over and gradually stepped away from the wall, approaching Riley as the young man sank to his knees, still shaking. But it wasn't anger anymore. Miles wouldn't say a word about the tears.

Instead he sank down next to Riley, that timer long forgotten, and gently laid his arm over the kid's shoulders. He knew that Sebastian was still trapped by Blaire in some way and he'd set out on this mission hoping to free any lingering ghosts that Riley might also have. Instead he seemed to have just alerted Riley to them properly. Now he had the kid under his arm, trembling and biting back more bitter tears.

"Why do I feel anything at all?" Riley whispered and Miles knew he was genuinely asking for an answer of him. He had none to give. "Why am I falling apart because of him. It was black and white. No one mourns when the villain falls in the stories. So why am I…?" Taking a deep breath Riley finally spit out the words that must have hurt him the most to say. "Why wasn't he the monster I knew?"

Instinctively every nerve in Miles's body surged up to refute that idea.

To remind him that Trager was a monster in every sense of the word. Just because he was one that happened to feel maybe one slight emotion one time that did not redeem all the things he was and had done. But Miles choked down all that reasoning. Because it didn't really matter, because to Riley at least, the fact Trager had even the smallest shred of humanity in him was devastating. It would have been kinder to let Riley go on thinking Trager incapable of guilt, or compassion or empathy of any kind.

But Trager had never been the type to be kind.

So they stayed there in silence as Riley rebuilt his understanding of the world. Miles waited with him, gave him all the time he needed – original plans be damned. Let Lisa skin him alive, let the splicers wander too close. For this moment he wasn't willing to force Riley to do a damn thing. For this moment he was content to let Riley wrap his brain around confusing, unjustified emotions.

All the while he cursed Trager's name, but also could not help thinking with a small bitter smile. _I suppose I'm not sorry Trager existed. If only because he resulted in you, Riles._ It was the closest Miles would ever get to agreeing with Richard Trager for as long as he still drew breath.


	12. Remaking Memories Part2

Getting Riley and Waylon on board was perhaps the easiest part of this little suicidal endevour he'd embarked on.

Granted both men were in no position to refute him. Riley had been securely under his thumb until the asylum devolved into a mess of screaming lunatics and bodies. This was something of an upgrade and while there was still hesitation behind his every stare, that look that said he was just waiting for the punch line to come, he was more than willing to do what he was told on the slim chance that his brother would be returned to him.

Waylon was in a far more stressful position. Riley's fear had already been realised, everything from here on became damage control for him, but for Waylon his family was still very much on the line.

But what would Blaire have to gain from lying? That was the argument that kept them all going even when there were ten thousand questions burning in their minds.

He'd answer them all later, maybe. Honestly Jeremy did not feel any great need to explain himself, saw his truth as something of an obstacle they could completely bypass. They'd only be more skeptical if he told them about coffee therapy meet ups and how he now knew the inner workings of a dishwasher due to Waylon's carelessness. It was a complication they didn't need to deal with, all they needed to know was that they were fucked if Blaire didn't help them – and for whatever reason he kept to himself, he _was_ helping.

Having primed Lisa to work outside of the asylum as best she could and get into contract with Upshur before he could get himself killed, Jeremy was left to manage things inside of the asylum.

Their first piece was being moved into place with a knight at its side. "You sure about this?" Riley asked, it was the closest he'd gotten to vocalizing his uncertainty since they began. His nervousness reared its head only now, when Waylon was adorning the patient uniform and they'd be heading down. "What if we get stopped?"

"Unlikely." Jeremy was barely paying attention to his own answer, more focused on the final email he was typing up. He distantly wondered if Waylon had typed his message to Upshur like this – disconnected and accepting. Unlikely, he probably trembled through every letter. "Even if any of them had the spine to ask what we are doing," Extraordinarily unlikely already given how the workers shied away from his very presence. "They'll be expecting Park at the engine and I highly doubt they'll find you being there all that strange. It's your job to do what I demand of you after all and I've made something a hobby seeing pests like him dealt with."

There was a noticeable drop in the mood. Jeremy could all but feel Riley's scowl settling on his back and he didn't particularly blame him. It might have been a relic of the past, but Jeremy found himself unable to resist probing at Riley's open wounds. "You know people tend to ramble a lot down there." He should have stopped there. "I hear your brother likes pretzels an ungodly amount."

"You fucking bastard-!"

Riley reached out, fully intent of strangling Blaire right then and there only for Waylon to quickly get between them. "Riley, calm down!" He flinched violently away from Riley, a instinctual reaction after having experienced first hand how painful a punch from the man could be, but still Waylon kept the peace as best he could. The sight of Waylon cringing away from him fear was sobering and even though his anger continued to boil and seethe inside of his gut, Riley relented.

"I…I don't like it either." Waylon began shakily and there was a genuine note of disbelief in his voice. He was protecting Jeremy – flipping- Blaire for god's sake. Hell had surely frozen over. "But we can't fight right now…punch him when this is over."

"Charming, Park." Blaire drawled with a roll of his eyes just before the final click of his mouse signaled the end of his work on the computer.

Jeremy had barely paid any attention to the scuffle behind him. Had Riley hit him Jeremy would not have been all that put out, after all he'd felt a slight pang of regret after he'd spoken. But of course he refused to let the other two men know that. Instead he turned to glance at them again, sizing up Waylon's patient attire. Now there was a memory he'd once held close to his person. "It's passable." He decided approaching Waylon with a scrutinizing stare. "Could rough you up a little more to really sell it but…well I guess playing around isn't the highest priority right now."

He was genuinely confused when Waylon looked scared. That's right, his threats still held water here. Jeremy never thought he was miss that tolerant look Waylon would have given him had he said the same thing in the world he remembered.

Biting back the swell of disappointment, Jeremy instead turned his attention to the job at hand. "As I am in fact a regular down in that wretched place I won't be with you two for long. Riley, you'll take Waylon to Andrew's more than capable hands. Once he's been dropped off you'll have a small window of opportunity…locate Billy Hope. Kill him or drag him out of his chamber, I don't care. Just remove him from any opportunity to connect with Walrider. Unfortunately Waylon, you'll be dead weight until Riley comes back for you. Just grit your teeth and deal with whatever happens until he gets back. Once you're both clear I want you to get Hope out of the building. If Upshur is half as competent as you seem to think Waylon he'll be there to collect you."

It was not a difficult role to play and Jeremy was positive Riley would get the results they needed. But even so…this was one hell of a long shot. Optimism was never his strong suit and Jeremy was eighty percent sure they were all about to die, but what he lacked in optimism he more than made up for in spite fueled persistence.

And Murkoff inspired an unparalleled level of spite in him.

"Oh and," Jeremy stopped at the door to glance back at Waylon with one last parting word of advice. ",try not to go insane." Was Blaire's stunning piece of encouragement as Waylon was lead off by Riley. Looking a little too pale for comfort. Although if he passed out it was really no great loss to them, might make a better actor unconscious.

The walk to the holding cells was a silent one.

Blaire walked like a man on a power trip with a trophy to hang on his wall, an act that was surprisingly easy to fall into. At his heels Waylon was practically radiating his nervousness – fortunate fo them all it perfectly fit his position right now. Fear was an acceptable emotion to be feeling while in his shoes. Riley was perhaps the most difficult to pass off, but he was stoic as always. The mask he put in place to hide his fear was no different to the mask he wore to hide how hard the weight of his own betrayal hit him. No one that knew Riley's position was Blaire's personal pincushion would so much as bat an eye.

Once they reached what would become Waylon's temporary home, it was time to part ways. Only then did Riley break the silence. "You're going to get us killed." He hissed under his breath as Waylon's transfer to Murkoff's 'care' was being processed and Jeremy's smile only widened – yeah. He probably was. "But if you come back without my brother, _I_ will kill you."

"Promises, promises, Riles." Blaire positively purred, getting a sharp glare from the man at his side. Then after a moment passed he added. "If I come back without your brother, I'll give you my gun to do it." Jeremy didn't get to see Riley's reaction to that as he turned away and walked towards the old holding cells he'd frequented in the past.

His first stop would be one he had never come to see in person and it held what would likely be the central piece to this little game.

And they'd probably kill him on sight.

The Warden did not look nearly as miserable as they ought to. Having been shot with a tranquilizer dart should have left them groggy and uncoordinated for quite some time. But rather than being unkempt and frantic, the Warden was still as a statue and looked about as cold as one. Despite himself Jeremy felt a rush of fear at seeing them again, even with the glass between them.

They must have known he was there, the Warden was a freak in ways the other patients couldn't begin to imagine. Jeremy didn't doubt for a second that they were aware of his existence, but he wasn't sure if they were ignoring him or simply sizing up the best way to pay him back for his transgression. After all it had been his finger that pulled the trigger.

"Warden."

His voice betrayed him. Nearly breaking on the single word, his mouth was dry and Jeremy found himself clenching and unclenching his fists. There was no answer, barely even a twitch from the figure in the cell. But he had to keep speaking, had to push through his fear on the slim chance that this would work.

They didn't have the luxury to waste the time it would take for him to gather his nerves. "Warden I— _we_ need your help." This time there was a response. So minute that Jeremy was almost sure he'd imagined the slight shift in the silent figure's shoulders. "You're the one the patients listen to, you know them…they trust you. Even that monster Gluskin doesn't cross you…we need you the manage them. Otherwise the whole place is going to go to shit the moment the doors open."

"We." The Warden's voice sent a second icy shill down Jeremy's spine. They did not sound tired, or sore, they barely even sounded interested. Just cold, _angry_. "You expect me to help you and Murkoff?"

"No." Jeremy denied flatly. "Not Murkoff. You give a damn about these people. I don't, I'd happily leave them to burn when Murkoff's clean up crew comes running but they'd be one more piece to bring Murkoff to the ground. "Murkoff is going to go into lock down the moment they realise things are not as they should be. If they think it's too far out of their control they'll burn this place to the ground with everyone inside. But if all the patients are released, it'll become a slaughter. It's all about balance…and we don't exactly have a lot of time to find it."

"You're lying."

"Oh for heaven's sake, I don't have the time to convince you-!"

"You're lying about your reason for thinking of the patients."

There was an dispute forming on Jeremy's tongue but it died there, realising how futile it was to argue the point. The Warden was a freak sure as shit, but they were uncanny in the way they could just know these things. Finally Jeremy relented and rather than make some flimsy argument he simply said. " _My_ reason doesn't matter. _You_ want to help them, I can help you do that. I don't think you need much more incentive than that."

He must have been the stupidest man on the planet, because for as much as he did not care for the patients – he knew someone who did.

Only then did the Warden properly move. Rising to their full height off the shoddy bed that sat at the back of the cell. Even standing straight as a board, the Warden was a good head shorter than Jeremy, and yet they still easily loomed. Something about the way they carried themselves made it seem as though they were larger than life. There was something too similar to the Walrider in how the Warden unsettled Jeremy. Jeremy had to make a conscious effort not to shrink away even with the glass between them.

Turning to face him the Warden's face was unreadable, just as it always was. Impassive to the very end. "And what makes you think I will not kill you the moment the glass between us in removed?"

"You might." Jeremy replied, able to feel his hands shaking. He feared death just like anyone else – but he feared failure far more. "However if you do fixing this dumpster fire becomes your problem. I can only give you so many of the access codes verbally but I'm sure you'll find a way around that."

They were staring at him now. The Warden's gaze was impenetrable, keeping Jeremy frozen in place as they sized him up. He felt fairly sure that the Warden would kill him, but he was also fairly sure they'd do all they could to save the patients. That included those few that Jeremy was attempting to help and so he could not be all that dissatisfied with that end to this.

"I don't recognize you." Warden said quietly. "You're not the Blaire I know."

And despite everything turning to shit around them, Jeremy couldn't help but laugh upon hearing that. The Warden expression did not change as he laughed and when Jeremy looked back at them, a nasty smirk plastered on his face they still did not so much as blink. "Well would you look at that, finally we have something in common."

With that Jeremy bit the proverbial bullet and swiped his access key over the keypad at the Warden's door. The mechanical whirl of the door being unlocked hissed and groaned as the glass slid back, almost as though it was protesting this breech in protocol.

As the Warden stepped out of the now useless cell, Jeremy tensed. Waiting for the moment he would find his heart being torn from his chest and suddenly although he'd come to terms with dying right then and there should it play out that way, all he could think about was running. Taking their time the Warden looked around, straightened out their clothes and then finally laid eyed on Blaire again.

The silence was oppressive and Jeremy dared not even breath.

Then they spoke. "Many of the patients are in no condition to be released." The Warden said flatly. "They'll tear one another apart if they're all released at once."

He wasn't going to die.

 _He wasn't going to die._

Relieved Jeremy let out a shuddering breath he had been holding and then flew into a somewhat nervous explanation. He told them about Riley's job, Waylon's position, his own jobs one of which he'd successfully carried out now that the Warden was free and then finally what they needed them to do.

"Walker?" The Warden murmured thoughtfully. "I suppose…." They seemed a little skeptical but Jeremy had expected as much.

"Walker is a powerhouse and he listens to _you_." Jeremy replied sharply, but he didn't have enough time to stop and argue the point. The Warden would do whatever they saw fit, he could only hope they'd take what he'd said in and use it accordingly. "Wernicke is going to be a problem. This little project is his life's work and he'll happily end all of ours to keep it." The delusional old bastard thought there was something of worth here. Murkoff believed it too, but they thought they could simply bump off the old man – the man that the Walrider's host thought was his father. The fools had damned them all the first time around, and Jeremy did not plan to make the same mistake by attacking Wernicke.

But as soon as those few they needed to get clear were out – Jeremy was more than happy to let the rest of the asylum turn red with blood again. He knew every name. Every face. Anyone that was worth anything, anyone that was even the slightest bit like Waylon or Sinclair or even idiots like Riley – they would be spared so long as they did this right.

And the rest? Well the media needed something gory to record now didn't they?

Hey Jeremy thought he was saintly compared to what he used to be. He'd not lose a wink of sleep over the rest of them.

"Wernicke is a manageable problem." The Warden said simply and there was a finality to their tone that Jeremy did not dare question. One less thing for him to think about.

"Good. Once you're done there should be cars around the back of the asylum, just beyond the trees." He trusted Lisa to get the transport to them, he did not trust Upshur to not do something stupid and get them all killed.

The cost of this plan was knowing that people would die. Jeremy did not dare think they'd be able to save everyone. Some of the patients were truly too far gone and many of them would have to stay in their cells or they'd put everyone else at risk. The Warden was no bleeding heart, they'd know who best to free and who ought to stay put…at least for the time being.

"I'll leave you to it." Jeremy muttered, more than ready to be away form the Warden, their existence still set his every nerve on edge. The fear would never truly leave him but he didn't have to stay close to them and make it worse.

He got all of three steps before the Warden' spoke again. "Dr. Trager has been moved." He announced, stopping Blaire dead. "You mean to find him don't you? His cell will be empty. If you want him, you'll find him in the screening rooms."

"Shit." That was in the opposite direction of the only other cell he needed to visit. In fact if he'd only known that earlier he could have added Trager to Riley's list of things to do.

Cursing again, louder Jeremy began to pace. Trying to rework the plan to fit in this slight time shift. He caught the Warden's eye and for the first time since meeting them he could actually read the question in their eyes. "I am supposed to get to Sinclair first and-"

"The therapist?"

"Yes the bleeding therapist!" He should not have snapped at the Warden. Should have had more self preservation instinct than that, but Jeremy was beginning to panic. He'd already accounted for so much, stretched the timeframe as thinly as he could. This felt like the final straw, he was sure that if he tried to do both they'd be properly out of time and they'd run the risk of losing everything.

And part of him was beginning to blame Sinclair for it.

"Oh sure he can clear the asylum in an hour just looking for me but he can't-" Jeremy stopped. Backtracked, repeated what he'd just said and then had the most horribly wonderful idea. Suicidal surely but also a time saver – well that seemed like a fair trade off.

"I need you to release Sinclair. Knowing him he'll probably be _thrilled_ it's you at his cell door rather than me. He would like someone like you, god damn bleeding heart that he is." Jeremy said quickly. Already turning back towards the path that would lead him to the screening rooms and Trager. The path that would lead him away from Sinclair's cell. That was fine, it would be a head start.

"He'll come looking for you."

"Exactly what I'm counting on."

…  
…

It seemed only half the screening rooms were in operation that day. Primarily because they'd been putting so much weight on Billy's progress. Why prepare more vessels when they were so close to having one that was perfected? Only the newly admitted patients seemed to be in them today and Jeremy spared a thought for Waylon – likely he'd be experiencing it for the first time himself.

It was fine. Riley would come back for him. Jeremy believed that.

Finding Trager was a disturbingly easy task. Just follow the screaming.

Once upon a time Jeremy had lingered outside of this same room and listened to the screams of a man he destroyed. He'd stood there and listened without ever once thinking perhaps he could put a stop to it. Why would he even entertain such a thought when all that mattered was the progress of the project. When all that mattered was Murkoff's security.

But he'd stayed all the same. Stood there and listened as piece-by-piece the man he'd known was picked apart and the thing left in his place was the shell of what he had been. Twice he'd done this and neither the calls of help me or I'm sorry stirred him. But just once he'd hesitated. When Trager had shouted his name, the last time he heard the man speak it.

He'd hesitated. But only for a moment and then he left the man he's called friend behind.

But today he did not stand outside the screening room, with his back pressed to the wall– never bold enough to look but always cold enough to listen. Today he did not take that position and instead his feet carried him inside the room, passing the threshold he'd never been brave enough to cross in the past.

The doctor in attendance was standing in front of the body strapped into place, a camera facing them both so it could capture each and every scream. Surprised by their unexpected third party, the doctor glanced up from his work fastening the straps. A question forming on his lips, but Jeremy did not allow it to pass.

There was no time to scream. The doctor might have registered what was happening as Blaire slipped his gun from his jacket and pressed it to the man's temple, but he didn't have time to say so much as 'please' before the trigger was pulled. The bullet exploded out of the barrel of the gun and a moment later the doctor's body was limp, his blood painting the opposite wall.

As their body crumpled to the ground Jeremy knew he'd likely gone too far. There was no way the sound of his gun firing would not draw attention, but he'd been unwilling to let the man live any longer. He knew all their names. All their faces. That was Jeremy Blaire's job. This one would not be missed and Jeremy felt a little better seeing him dead on the ground after having witnessed him tightening those straps on Trager's wrists.

The echo of the gun firing was dying away and only now did the unwilling patient begin to stir. Having been so far gone into whatever nightmare those moving pixel caused to notice what was going on until the sound of the bullet flying free of the gun broke him from his stupor.

Jeremy cringed when he saw how badly the engine program had disfigured Rick. He'd never exactly been a vain man, but even he had to find this withered state disheartening. "Grindstone… golden p-parachutes…stop…s-s-survive." He was muttering incoherencies and Jeremy's heart tightened painfully in his chest.

Rick's favourite thing about himself was his mind. If that went he'd rather be dead, at least that was what he had claimed to Jeremy when the topic of old age came into play.

Setting the gun aside Jeremy rushed to Rick's side, looking over the restraints and snarling in frustration when he saw they'd rubbed Trager's wrists raw, breaking the skin and blistering over months of abuse. "Hey…Hey, Trager. You see me? Come on." He murmured, trying to find some kind of spark of recognition behind his friend's glazed stare. One of his eyes had rotted, looked as though someone had tried to tear it right from his head but Blaire was no longer squeamish. He'd watched his own body be patched back together, he knew it inside and out and this was not the first time he'd stared directly into a dead, unseeing eye. This too could be considered his doing.

"All the money is gone… h-help-highly eviscerated…"

He tried to spark something inside of Trager. Tried to get him to see what was right in front of him but still he stared into the empty space, blind to the real world. "Trager, please." Jeremy pleaded quietly. Nothing seemed to be getting through to him, he didn't even seem to know anyone was there with him or if he did he thought them just another of his tormentors.

When he laid his hand against Rick's sunken skin the man reacted with a violent jerk as though Jeremy had pressed hot coals into him. Trager screeched, something high and hysterical. They might have been words but he was babbling so rapidly that Jeremy couldn't make heads of tails of most of it. Not until he began to scream vehement curses with the occasional word of mercy thrown in. Begging for them to just leave him alone and stop. Learned his lesson. Wouldn't do it again. Would work harder.

Jeremy couldn't stand it.

"I…shit, it's me Rick!" The screaming stopped for just a second and Jeremy kept speaking, praying he was being heard this time. "You see me, Rick? Yeah? It's me, it's Jer. I'm going to get you out of here. You still with me, Rick?"

And for just a second he was.

There was something intelligent behind Trager's one good eye for a second and he actually _saw_ Jeremy. Confusion played across the man's face as he stared at Jeremy and then finally… _finally_.

"…buddy?"

Jeremy didn't think he'd every smiled so wide in all of his life. It was a near miracle he didn't end up throwing his arms around Trager in some ill-fated attempt at a hug. No time for that. Had to focus on getting him out here. "Yeah Rick, it's me. It's your buddy." He muttered as his hands began to try and get the straps off of Rick's ankles. "Going to get you out of this shithole, just wait."

"You're…actually here. You're real. Not a bad trip… Why?" Trager asked, and Jeremy cannot quiet place his tone. The first of the restraints came away, followed quickly by the second soon he'd have Trager free even if the ones looped around his wrists were tighter than those at his legs.

All the while Trager was still peering at him, that puzzled expression slapped on his dazed face. Jeremy pauses for just a moment to offer up what he hopes to be a satisfactory explanation. "Sentimental attachments." Something in Trager's gaze clicks and Jeremy hopes to god is understanding.

"Have you been watering Jeffery?" Trager asks, words slurring so horribly that for a second Jeremy has no idea what he's trying to say and then when he pieces the garble together as English he's no closer to understanding.

"What?" He's trying to get the latches undone and Rick's swaying is not helping the process along.

"Jeffery." Trager insists again, talking as though his mouth is stuffed full of cotton. Although it does nothing to discourage him from speaking. "Have you been watering Jeffery?"

"What?" Blaire barks, looking back at Rick ludicrously. "No, what no! Of course I haven't been watering your fucking plant. _Seriously_ Rick? Why the hell would I water your house plant-"

" _Jeffery_!" Trager corrects and Jeremy groans in disbelief. He wishes he could bring himself to be surprised that this conversation is actually happening but he just isn't. Of all the inane…

"-I didn't water you fucking plant, Rick."

"You're dead to me." Trager huffs, tossing his head off to the side only to regret the action a moment later when his whole world went spinning out of balance. He had to grip the arms of his chair just to stop from toppling out of it. The dramatics would need to be kept to minimum for a while.

All the while Jeremy could only roll his eyes in an attempt to fight back the smile that threatened to squirm its way free. It had been so long… "You wouldn't know the half of it." He muttered under his breath, a grim reminder of how literal that sentiment could become for either of them if he didn't hurry. "I'm sure…Jeffery is fine." He gives up arguing the point and instead hoists Trager up onto his chicken legs, hooking the man's arm over his shoulder to half walk, half drag him towards the door.

Only to hear Rick mumble under his breathe. "You monster. You're a bad papa to Jeffery. Bad influence you are."

Despite himself Jeremy chuckles. "Just wait till you meet Jackie and Noel." Rick seems barely conscious but when he is aware enough to attempt it, he tries to help Jeremy with the slow shuffle out of the screening room.

It hits Jeremy properly for the first time. Trager is here. He's right there next to him, mumbling near unintelligible rubbish about a houseplant, and _alive_. Jeremy knows there's no time to stop and really soak that in after all this time, but the weight of what he's achieved is nearly overwhelming. "Hey, Rick?" He begins quietly, sure that Trager doesn't actually know what he's saying when he hums in acknowledgment. "I missed you, buddy."

And Trager's queasy smile suddenly made all this shit seem worth it. "Always wanted to hear you say that, Jer."

"Yeah, I know. You're never hearing it again." He grouses, absolutely no heat behind the words. Jeremy is even smiling a little bit. "But for now lets get you the hell out of here."

"And when we're out…?"

Jeremy only needs to think about his answer for about a second. "We kill every last fucker inside."

"Ha…sounds like my kind of plan, buddy."

…

…

Getting Trager out of the asylum became one of the more difficult tasks of the day when the Warden's lunatics began to swarm the asylum.

Jeremy carefully kept the pair of them away from the worst of it. Tried to work off what he remembered from the first time around. The kneejerk reaction of the staff was to contain the problem, for security to run towards what seemed like a simple riot rather than away. How fortunate for them that for the time being it was a much smaller scale disaster than it had been for Blaire the first time.

Likely they did not feel so fortunate when Walker came onto the scene. "Time to make ourselves scarce." Jeremy muttered, pulling Trager away from the open hallways, soon they'd need to avoid not only Murkoff personnel but also the raving patients. They'd hold no love for either of them.

Already he could hear screaming. Distant, not close enough to be cause for alarm, but distinctly shrieks of terror as some of the doctors met with a rather grisly end. Gruesome perhaps, but equally justified.

While Trager was in no condition to be fending for himself, he was rapidly coming back to his senses. Jeremy noticed when less and less of the weight on his shoulder was dead and when Trager began to get the hang of walking again.

He had quite good timing because the asylum was beginning to truly fly into a panic. Those few that knew about the situation, those very precious few that Blaire had taken the time to contact during the small window of opportunity he'd had in his office had either made themselves scarce already or fled at the first sign of truth to Blaire's words.

Those that didn't get out in time would hardly be his concern. His conscience was clean – he'd tried after all. Their lives were their own problem now.

"Just a bit more." He muttered to Rick quietly, eyes fixed on the exit they'd agreed to meet at. Fortunately with the elevator key in his possession it would be difficult for many of the other inhabitants of the asylum to make their way up here from the lower levels. Not by any stretch of the imagination impossible, but time consuming and for now that was a blessing in of itself.

Riley _should_ have been ahead of him, _should_ have already been waiting but there wasn't a trace of the man or Waylon. Frustrated and beginning to worry that soon the panic would escalate to true carnage Jeremy had to decide what to do. "Going to get you outside Rick, got a few friends there waiting. They'll look after you."

"Friends…" Rick mumbled as though the word was a completely alien one to him. "…since when?"

Ten different snarky answers jumped to his mind at once. Two of which included, 'the future you won't see' and 'a alternate reality' none of those answer got past his lips and instead Blaire opted not to answer at all. Too focused on peering around the corner towards their escape to take notice of Trager's scrutinizing gaze. Even had he seen that look Jeremy wouldn't have been particularly concerned – it seemed they all looked at him like that since he woke up. Like someone they'd never met before.

Then just as his nerves were beginning to get the best of him, there was movement at the door. A moment later it was being pried open and Jeremy let out a quiet breath of relief upon seeing Waylon standing on the other side. Shaken but alive and more importantly on time. Well, within reason. At his side was Riley, holding a gun at the ready – likely guarding Waylon's back.

With one last quick glance down the corridors Blaire began to pull Trager out from around the corner towards the escape. This time Rick was using his own two feet but still leant against Blaire's shoulder for support.

"Is…is _that_ Trager?"

The horror in Riley's voice is palpable and Jeremy might have told him this was an improvement to what could be have been had Trager not decided to be lucid enough to take offense. "Still a far cry prettier than you, Riles." He remarked, mustering up a nasty smirk for the young security officer.

"Yeah. That's Trager." He muttered with a heavy sigh.

Ignoring Trager's quiet chuckle Riley turned quickly to Blaire, eyes narrowing sharply when he noticed a distinct lack of the one person he was truly waiting on. "My brother?" He hissed and Jeremy was genuinely surprised he hadn't already tried to shoot him.

"Coming." He answered flatly, having no time to explain to Riley just how… _persistent_ Sinclair could be.

Wouldn't be long now he was sure.

Rather than waste time on that front Jeremy took stock of Riley's condition. He's garnered a bloody nose since they last met, Waylon was shaking like a leaf at his side and there was blood on his knuckles. "How's the rest coming along?"

Then as though he'd been kicked back into autopilot – Riley gave his status report. "One dead doctor. No luck with the signal jammer. The short wave radio in the prison should work a charm but…"

"Forget the radio." Jeremy snipped, somehow still able to remember the last time he'd seen the damn thing – broken it to a hundred pieces with his baton at the time. "What about Hope?"

At this Riley shifted uneasily, turning his gun over in his hands as though he might find some fault in the design. "He's…he's out but…" Taking a deep breath Riley forced himself to level out his voice and continue. "He's in about a good a state as Trager there. Asking after Wernicke…and there's this stuff. Black, gooey – he's _leaking_ it."

Behind Riley's horror there was an unspoken judgment – _what have you monsters done to him_?

 _I'd be more worried about what he'll do to us._ Jeremy thought coldly, imagining the Walrider sitting just underneath Billy's flesh, clawing its way out as the host became more distressed.

So long as Billy believed Wernicke to be safe they too would be safe from that thing.

It protected the host and Billy's desire to guard his perceived father influenced its actions. Jeremy supposed it leeched something like personality from the hosts it infected. But the Walrider was not an extension of its host. Not really. The Walrider was a creature all its own, and it had a habit of latching onto people like a child would to a new pet.

With that thought Jeremy turned his gaze onto Waylon who recoiled under his stare. "You mind Billy." He announced finally and Waylon balked.

" _Me_?"

Perhaps Waylon had a point. "You and Riley. Stay with Hope. Keep his attention on you, reassure him, do whatever you have to just to keep that thing calm and under his skin. "Give it Upshur if you think it'll help." The Walrider had liked him enough in the past to crawl inside of his body, perhaps that affection would carry over to this scenario. "Last thing we need is the Walrider coming out and-"

"It's real?" Riley asked, as skeptical as he was horrified by the idea. "You lunatics actually made that thing?"

He did not have the time to sit them down and give a crash course on Walrider wrangling.

Fortunately they were all given a little bit of incentive to get moving when something not too far away from them _exploded_.

The force of the explosion shook the ground and when Jeremy looked back he could jus see the glow of flames beginning to spread. Murkoff Tactical would be on them in no time if they were not already on their way. "Lets get out of here." Waylon suggested urgently.

Survival instinct pushed all their questions aside for the time being and Riley stepped forward to help him with Trager.

Clocking Blaire's surprised look, Riley only scowled at him. "I can move him faster." He explained shortly. Calculated, logical – and hating every moment he had to do it.

"Not sure I trust you not to kill me, Riles." Trager muttered and if the look of disgust Riley shot him was anything to go by – he was considering the benefits of doing just that. Blaire might have argued, demanded he continue to assist Trager, but instead he let the man go without a fuss.

Uttering a small warning to Riley as he did. "Best you tie him up the first chance you get." To Riley's credit he only looked surprised for a split second but then seemed to console himself by thinking 'well it _is_ Trager' he just did not know that Trager at his best right now was his worst while sane.

Unless they all wanted to start losing body parts once he properly returned to lucidity – they'd be keeping his hands bound up tight. Jeremy did not fancy that conversation when it came around. Rick might just be glad to see him now but once the memory of betrayal returned…well that would be tomorrows problem.

With that little order given he let Rick be taken from him and moved aside. He wouldn't be following them to the tree line and the waiting safety just yet.

Waylon was still holding the exit open for them and as Riley pulled Trager out into the rain Jeremy just heard the exhausted man making comment on the mountain air. "You're not going on a stroll, Trager." Riley muttered as he dragged him on off, leaving Waylon and Jeremy behind.

"What's that you got there?" Blaire asked, noticing Waylon was holding a weapon. As though he could actually match the threats of the asylum – he was no fighter.

"O-Oh this? Riley gave me this. To protect myself." He muttered, raising the bat he was carrying. _Perfect_.

"Well give it here." Jeremy demanded striding up to Waylon to snatch the baton away from him. "You'd be useless at using it. Besides you won't be needing it. Stick close to your guard dogs and you'll be fine." He continued, testing out the weight and durability of the baton. Just how he remembered it.

"Wait, where are you going? You're not coming with us?"

Waylon, despite still holding a healthy hatred and fear of Blaire, somehow still had it in him to sound concerned. Damn moron was still so soft, Jeremy supposed that was fine he didn't feel the need to break him anymore.

"We're missing one." He explained with a practice swing of the stick. "I'm going to wait for our straggler."

Too strong, he'd forgotten how good his swinging arm had been before the Walrider tore him apart. Adjusting accordingly he tried again, gentler this time – enough to bruise but no threat of killing someone if he struck them on the head. This was supposed to serve as deterrence for when his stalker finally caught up with him after all.

Satisfied he slung the baton over his shoulder and slipped his other hand into his pocket, feeling the cold surface of his gun. There were no spare bullets so this was very much a last resort measure and not at all meant for their latecomer. Deterrence and execution tools in place he glanced back at Waylon. "That brute would kill me if I came out empty handed after all."

"You…you're waiting for Seb?" Waylon sounded mystified. Fair enough, only yesterday Blaire would have gladly watched Sinclair burn just for a chuckle. " _You_?" He asked again and this time Jeremy snickered, crazy as it might have been he rather liked knowing things Waylon couldn't begin to imagine.

"Long story, Park." One he wasn't going to share. "None of your business anyway, get going or I'll have your keeper to answer to when this is all over." He wasn't sure which he was more wary of. Lisa or Riley. Both would see him dead should he fail to return their loved ones to them. Might just kill him anyway for good measure – he wouldn't blame them for that.

"Um, Blaire…?" He stopped on Waylon's tiny voice. Frowning he looked back at the man who had curled a little bit against the door, wearing an expression that even a kicked pup wouldn't put on. "…don't die?" He mumbled what sounded like a plea and for a second Jeremy swore it was the Waylon he remembered from those days spent living in his guest room.

He supposed that would never happen now. They were never going to be friends in any capacity.

That seemed like a fine trade off for everything else they gained. Unconsciously Jeremy's gaze slipped down to Waylon's leg. Completely human, all flesh and bone rather than creaky wood. Yeah, this was an acceptable trade off.

"Get going." Jeremy replied stiffly as he turned away from Park. "We shouldn't be long."

He'd barely gotten three steps before the moron was speaking to him again. "I'm serious!" Waylon called but this time he wasn't given an answer, Blaire didn't even look at him. "I don't know what the fuck is going on, I don't even know why you're doing this or if you're seriously tying to do something good…but look," He began, shifting weight off one leg and onto the other. "After all that…the _shit_ that went down in the asylum – you and Murkoff probably deserve to rot. But…shit I don't even know what to think. Just…promise me you won't die in here."

Jeremy could have told Waylon what he was thinking. It was so painfully transparent that Jeremy somehow managed to find some affection for the idiot despite how grim it all seemed. Waylon hated him of course, to so suddenly not be hated in return by the man made it his business to see Waylon's life was hell – well it was jarring.

He knew from experience how confusing that sudden lack of loathing could be. Waylon had once done that to him.

If he did survive this experience maybe he'd explain it to Park one day. But for now he walked away, not uttering another word to Waylon. He wasn't going to make any more promises.

"Can't keep all my promises, Park." Jeremy muttered under his breath, not stopping to look back at the man he left behind.

Already the asylum was beginning to fall apart. He could hear it, what had once been almost calm attempts to quell the riots were becoming panicked attempts to escape. Walker would keep them from leaving this place, the Warden would see to it that those left inside perished and it was his job to make sure that the only ones left inside deserved as much.

It was his job to see to it that he was the final nail in Murkoff's coffin. Because once upon a time Waylon had looked at him with a look so cold he was sure he'd never see them and said to him. " _I want you to end Murkoff."_

"But I suppose I can keep just this one."

…

…

With Trager clear Jeremy was free to focus on his own safety. Lisa would mind those they had gotten out and despite his personal distaste for the Warden he held out faith they would take care of the loose ends lingering inside the asylum. Although he thought he might have had to go and deal with Wernicke himself.

The man prided himself in his science, in being able to understanding the unexplainable. Faith and mysticism were lost on him, even if Jeremy had approached him with some kind of warning as to what his carelessness and Murkoff's greed would cause – he wouldn't be believed. Not unless he had some proof and honestly Jeremy did not fancy spending his time winning over some ancient nazi scientist. Murkoff planned to eliminate him and were it not for Billy's affection of the man, Blaire would have happily gone through the with idea.

But for now he lived and Jeremy left their fate up to the Warden, deeming them to be more than capable of handling the elderly bastard. Besides, they seemed better suited to dealing with monsters than Blaire was. He made them, handling them was never exactly his forte.

As such he did begin to wonder how he planned to deal with _his_ monster as he awaited the stalker to finally catch up with him.

It was taking too long.

"Come on, Sinclair… Where the hell are you?" Jeremy muttered under his breath, the weight of the baton passing back and forth between his hands. A nervous energy rise up under his skin, causing his muscles to coil tightly in anticipation of a sudden burst of movement. " _Come on_."

Hesitant to travel too far from the exit but incapable of remaining stationary Blaire had reluctantly returned deeper into the asylum on the thin hope that maybe if the distance became smaller the wait would follow suit. However every tiny step he took in the other direction was another he'd have to take back, further chewing through their limited time. The longer he delayed, the more detrimental this place became to his health. Before long the carnage would reach him and he'd either have to turn tail and flee empty handed or be forced to relieve the nightmare a second time around.

His only solace was knowing that the rest of them had their marching orders, even if he failed to return Lisa would take care of everything from there. He'd put it all into place and as the board became messier and messier with every second – Jeremy had set up his pieces to the best of his ability and now there was only the matter of putting Murkoff into checkmate.

Blaire's piece was not strictly required for that and so the game was put above him. It all came down to what mattered to him, his part in the game or the win. Well Jeremy had never been the sort to throw away an easy victory.

He was just beginning to consider venturing down into the male ward through the elevator, safety be damned, when the rattle of a door being pried open startled Jeremy back a few steps. Perhaps his time was up and the riots would catch up with him, this to be the first of many more complications he'd wager. Except when the door opened he found himself looking directly as the monster he'd been waiting on. Warped, less burned but alight with a kind of vicious glee that had no right sitting on his face – Sinclair.

"There you are, Mr. Blaire! I'm so relieved I found you!"

The familiar joyful tone shot a cold chill up Jeremy's spine but in the same breath he caught himself whispering. "Finally." Then immediately took a further four steps away from the door and Sinclair.

Quickly his gaze dropped from the man's face to see for his hands, or _not_ see them. The moment Jeremy saw Sinclair's hand angled behind his back he knew what to expect the man was hiding from his view.

His quick retreat sparked something behind Sinclair's eyes. Something cold, calculating – predatory and despite having known what to expect. Despite having lived it and learned how to see past it – Jeremy could feel his blood running like ice through his veins. Dread beginning to seep its way into every available space in his mind, causing his fingers to tighten around the baton until they began to cramp and ache.

He had not faced Sinclair like this outside of his sleep in such a long time he almost forgot what it felt like to be _real_. For the nightmare to be flesh and blood again.

For it to not be Sebastian standing in front of him.

He was afraid and Sinclair must have seen it in his face. "Where are you going?" The blonde asked, tone catching between a mocking purr and genuine anger. As though he simply could not fathom why Blaire would put space between them.

"Nowhere! I'm going…nowhere." Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Jeremy forced the hand holding the baton to lower slightly as the other hand came up. Palm up in what he hoped to god was a pacifying action. Sinclair looked puzzled. "I'm not going anywhere, see? You found me. Just…put down those scissors, Sinclair."

This time it was undeniably irritation that shone in Sinclair's eyes. "Now how did you guess that?" His little toy ruined before he even got the chance to surprise Jeremy with it.

With the game taken away from him Sinclair's arm dropped from behind his back and sure enough clenched in his fist was the scissors Jeremy remembered.

They were clean. For now.

"Now Mr. Blaire…about your session." _Oh christ not this again…_

Jeremy barely had the chance to get clear when Sinclair lunged for him, swinging the scissors down for him in what would have been a decidedly lethal blow. Experience was on his side, but skill was not. Jeremy's hasty stumbled dodge was a result of expectation and familiarity with Sinclair but he was no fighter. He fought using others as his weapons and if there was no one to fight for him then battles were won with words.

Words were all he had left when everything else was stripped from him and so Jeremy fell back onto them now even as he held the baton up at the ready. Not sure how useful it would be in action but hoping it would give Sinclair reason to hesitate before getting any closer.

Snarling angrily and looking a little surprised by just how ready Blaire had been for the attack, Sinclair jerked back up to his full height, teetering back on his heels as he carelessly threw his weight around – what little of it he maintained after the engine was done with him.

"Really now Mr. Blaire how am I expected to help you if you don't _hold still_."

The glint of the scissors being raised for Jeremy to go for the first of his words. "Your brother is waiting for you!"

Jerking to a halt, confusion flickered across Sinclair's face. That's right, his mind had betrayed him considerably during the slaughter, wiping all thoughts that were not of revenge from his head. But he could be made to remember easily enough. "Riley is waiting for you outside." Jeremy continued urgently, eyes staying fixed on the scissors; just waiting for the moment they would come flying at him again. "Everyone is outside, I got Trager right after letting the Warden out. Riley and Waylon are out there, hell I bet that lunatic Gluskin even got clear in time."

Gradually there was recognition returning to Sebastian's face, the confusion never fully faded but he could see the man processing what he was hearing. The scissors remained at his side for a while longer. "You got Dr. Trager out?" He was not a blasted doctor! Jeremy inwardly groaned knowing that was going to be a problem for later.

Still Sinclair sounded puzzled. " _You_ …went back for him?"

"Sinclair, listen to me." Jeremy tried; using the precious few nonviolent seconds he held the man's attention for. "We can get out of here, the exit is not far away. It's time to leave. We have to go."

He had not yet been attacked again. Sinclair hadn't taken so much as another step. Jeremy took this as a good sign and pressed just a little harder.

"Come with me."

And when Jeremy's hand turned to face his palm upwards, Sinclair actually took a step away. The scissors held close to his chest, now an item of defense instead of the weapon they were intended to be. "What…?" He began, the façade of a calm pleasant man breaking slowly. "What are you doing? This…This isn't right. Y-you got what you wanted, you won. This isn't what you… You _smiled_!"

With every word Sinclair became more agitated until he was screaming at Blaire. "I saw you, I know you did! You smiled when you killed me!"

"You're not dead, Sebastian."

This time when Jeremy took a step forward, Sebastian took three rapid steps of his own back. Pressing against the door he'd moments ago opened. "You're _not_ dead." He repeated sharply, taking one more step, the last he dared to take for the time being but his hand stayed out, waiting for either the blade or Sebastian's to take it. "Not yet but if you don't get out of here you just might get us both killed."

And then because he knew that if the words weren't said something would feel undone, Jeremy murmured. "I haven't given you permission to die."

"The Warden said…but I-I didn't believe… How could I? They were only dreams. J-Just Wernicke's nightmares, blood dreams, nothing else. O-Oh god I'm not all there. _I'm not all here_."

"I'm not going to hit you." Jeremy's words might as well have been a physical strike as Sinclair went ridged against the door he was firmly pressed again.

"You're not…you _can't_ be." With every second, every word, the mask broke a little more and outpoured everything else. Out came the anger; out came the hatred and the pain. All of that truth bubbling over into words as he stared at Blaire and saw nothing familiar to him. "Who the hell are you?!"

So many times Jeremy had come to terms with dying. Too many times he'd waited for his dragged in breath thinking the next would be his last. It was a horrible feeling, all fear and panic - very rarely the numb acceptance he'd heard of. But as he dropped the baton and took those last few steps between himself and Sebastian – Jeremy finally felt none of the terror for what might be the last breath he took.

If Sinclair's scissors buried themselves into his back now, he knew it would only hurt for a short time and then there'd be nothing. Not even regret. So when his arms wrapped around Sebastian's shoulders, holding the young man close, Jeremy was able to speak without any fear.

"Sebastian." He said quietly, the words almost so hushed that even with this closeness Sebastian might not hear them. "I'm sorry."

A sharp tremor wracked through the slender body cradled in his embrace and Jeremy waited for that shiver to result in violence. Tensing instinctively as he awaited the punishment he justly deserved only to be met with the sound of metal clattering to the ground and for the body under his arms to surge against his chest. Trembling arms wrapping around his torso as tightly as they could muster as all the strength was sapped straight out of their owner.

Shivering and beginning to sob, Sebastian broke down right then and there and Jeremy wondered if the result would have been the same had he simply said those words to him the first time they met after the asylum had burned. Likely not, Sinclair was balancing on the edge of something in this slaughter, tipping off it when given the slightest push by him in the past. Sebastian's fragile mind had not yet set and all it took this time was a little bit of gentle urging to pull him back from that edge rather than topple him off it.

Choices and timing he supposed.

"You took everything from me." Sebastian sobbed, fingers buried deeply in Jeremy's jacket, clutching him as tightly as he could manage. "I don't want to go back there, I-I want this to be real. Don't…oh god, don't take this away from me too."

He was taking more thing from Sebastian. Some he might have missed, coffee dates with Waylon and mornings spent tossing quips back and forth over the breakfast table.

But it was the things he didn't need to know, didn't need to dirty his hands with that Jeremy was happy to take form him. There'd be no lives on his conscience, no blood on his hands, no regrets or broken legs. Just a head full of nightmares and a path that lead to a different life.

But this?

He wasn't taking this away from Sebastian.

"All yours." Jeremy murmured gently, giving the crying man a few more seconds where he could simply cling to him. But he knew that they were on thin ice and he could spare no more time when what had once been the distant sounds of people shouting got closer. They didn't sound crazed which likely meant it was Murkoff's back up finally come to clean up this mess. Without Walrider there to rip them to shreds the balance had tipped into Murkoff's favour once again.

Fine. The damage was done.

"Time to go." He whispered to Sebastian upon hearing the heavy thud of boots closing in on them from down the hall.

Following Jeremy's gaze Sebastian's eyes hardened slightly insane he might be but Sebastian was able to put two and two together easily enough. " _Murkoff_ …"

"Hold onto that anger." Blaire advised, stepping away from Sebastian before thinking better of it and grabbing the man by the hand. "But save it for later."

It looked as though Sinclair would have rather stayed and tried his luck killing off some of the men Murkoff had sent. A suicidal urge that Jeremy was having no part in, so he tugged at Sebastian's hand urging him to leave that murderous desire behind. Once his mind settled again, he'd regret those kinds of thoughts anyway. Better to keep his hands pristine. " _Later_." He hissed again, giving Sebastian another tug and this time the man began to follow after him.

His footfalls damn near silent in comparison to Jeremy's. He was practically built to sneak up on people and admitted the idea of having him get the jump on the tactical team was not wholly unappealing but living was far more enticing. Their revenge would go through the courts, not through blood.

A door some distance behind them burst open and Jeremy hear the crack of a gun. Too close. Quickening his pace they had to sacrifice some of their discreetness in exchange for a quicker escape. Not too difficult seeing as there were so few up here and any that were lingering had the issue of also fleeing from Murkoff's death squad.

More bullets were being fired, and the screams that had once been a distant carnage were now filling the same air as them. Anxiously Jeremy lead Sebastian for the exit, stopping their mad dash for escape one corner away from the door. The run to the forest was likely going to be just as draining, best to take this final moment to catch his breath.

By his side Sebastian looked just as out of breath and Jeremy found that deeply satisfying. At least it wasn't just a matter of his stamina failing him.

When they stopped Sebastian risked another look at him, those eyes still searching his face for something. The truth or the sign of a lie maybe. Hell, maybe he was just looking to see if Jeremy was real or not. However when Blaire attempted to turn and round the corner, Sebastian's hand anchored him for a moment. Confused when the blonde's hand jerked him back, not pulling but rather acting as some immovable force for just a second, Jeremy frowned at the silent man and once again found him searching his expression for something.

In an effort to reassure him Jeremy pressed the hand not curled around Sebastian's against the man's cheek. He cringed as though expecting to be hit but then melted into the contact. Just as starved for affection as always, perhaps made worse by the horrors of the walrider program.

"Still with me?" He checked in, getting a mute nod from Sebastian. Good enough. "Just a bit further and we're home free."

One final leap, one last nail.

Tomorrow in sight.


End file.
